Happily Ever After
by Patricia Louise
Summary: A series of one-shots glimpsing into the married life of Annie and Auggie. Sort of a sequel to 'A New Life', but with no order to them just as they come to me.
1. Pregnant Pause

**Happily Ever After is planned to be only a series of unknown number of one-shots following Annie and Auggie's marriage. Sort of the answer to those who wanted more of the pair after marriage.**

**The first story has a pregnant Annie on a simple mission for Joan.**

**Mandy58 has looked it over. I appreciated her suggestions**

**I own nothing of Covert Affairs but a well-watched DVD of Season One.**

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><p>As Auggie Anderson felt the ripple of movement beneath Annie's taut skin a joyous grin spread over his face. "It's alive," he whispered. "It's real. I'm going to be a father!"<p>

"Yes, Auggie, it's alive. I AM pregnant. What? You thought that I was just getting fat?" Annie Anderson teased her husband of almost three years.

"No, I never thought that you were just getting fat," Auggie replied. "Remember, I'm the one that told you you were pregnant long before you took the pregnancy test."

"Yeah, you did. I still don't understand how you knew."

"If I tell you, you'll hit me," Auggie stated with conviction. Annie was not above giving him a few well placed swats when he told her how he knew things about her that were 'personal' in nature.

"If I promise not to swat you, will you tell me?" Annie implored.

"Pinky swear?" Auggie asked as he raised his hand from where it lay on his wife's swollen belly.

"Pinky swear," Annie replied and wrapped her little finger around her husband's.

"Your female secretions changed," he stated simply. "You smelled different, you felt different. You were pregnant. It was very subtle, but there was a change."

"That nose of yours again," Annie said as she touched Auggie's face beneath his unseeing eyes. "I should have known."

"Yes, my nose knows." Auggie smiled. "I know every part of you."

"Does your nose also know that it's time for dinner?" Annie asked playfully as she moved off the sofa to answer the knock on the door.

"No, but my tummy does," Auggie said as he followed his wife. It was Saturday and that meant that there'd be pizza for dinner.

Despite the fully furnished gourmet kitchen, Annie took the easy way out and ordered in as often as Auggie would let her get away with it. And lately he'd been letting her get away with it a lot. Advancing pregnancy was not agreeing well with his Anne Catherine Walker-Anderson.

# # # # #

On Tuesday, mid-morning, Annie overheard a loud conversation between Auggie and his boss, Joan Campbell, as she wandered into Auggie's division of the CIA on a break. Auggie's final words to Joan were all that Annie clearly heard and they totally surprised her.

"No, Joan. Absolutely not. You are not sending Annie back into the field. You are not jeopardizing my wife and my baby no matter how 'safe' the mission is!" With that Auggie strode angrily from his boss' office and to his own.

Annie followed her husband into his office. "What is it that Joan wants me to do that you don't?" she asked as she closed the sliding glass door closed behind her.

"How much did you hear?" Auggie asked as he picked up his headphones and placed them around his neck.

"Just you vehemently telling Joan absolutely not. That you wouldn't allow her to send me back into the field. What does she want me to do?"

"You are not seriously considering this are you?" Auggie asked with concern.

"I'd like to know what I'm turning down," Annie said as she brushed a kiss on Auggie's cheek.

"A brush-pass at a restaurant nearby. No out of country travel is on tap," Auggie finally admitted. "Joan thought that no one would suspect a very pregnant woman."

"I'm not THAT pregnant," Annie huffed indignantly. "I'm just barely six months along. I've still got three to go."

Auggie snaked his arm out, surrounded Annie's waist and pulled her closer to him. He kissed his wife's protruding baby bump. "But you have to admit that it's apparent that you are 'with child'. Even I can see that."

Annie gave her husband a hip check and wiggled out of his grasp. "Okay, I'll admit that I'm no longer able to disguise being pregnant."

The side door into Auggie's office space opened and Joan Campbell stuck her head in. "Annie can I see you in my office when you're through distracting Mr. Anderson from his job?"

"If you want to see me about the brush-pass, can we talk here?"

Joan looked puzzled for a moment, then stepped into the room and closed the door."

"What has Auggie mentioned that he should not have?" Joan asked with a combination of irritation and concern.

"Just that you want me to do a brush-pass and he doesn't," Annie answered.

"The FBI has the asset under surveillance. He has information that we don't want to share with them just yet. We just thought that you look very un-spy-like and could make the pass without raising suspicion. It would be in a very safe place here in the DC area."

"It's tempting," Annie said and then noticed Auggie's face go stern and disapproving. "I need more information before I say yes or no," Annie continued.

"That can only be done in my office," Joan said turning to leave.

Annie touched Auggie's shoulder and followed Joan. A few minutes later Annie was seated in Joan's office looking at a file. After reading the information contained in it, Annie closed the folder and placed it on Joan's desk. "Did you tell Auggie everything in the file?"

Joan shook her head. "No. Just the highlights."

"And he still freaked out?"

Joan nodded.

"I'll do this on one condition. I want an extra level of anonymity. I want Auggie to come with me. A blind man and a pregnant woman would be way under anyone's radar."

Joan nodded. A brief but telling smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she lifted her phone's receiver from its cradle. "Auggie, would you please come to my office," she intoned a few moments later.

A few minutes later Auggie was striding into Joan's office with a distressed look on his face. "I'm not going to like this conversation am I?" he said as he located a chair and sat down. "Annie," he said nodding her way.

"We're doing the brush-pass together," Annie said touching Auggie's arm lightly. "Extra layer of anonymity. No one would suspect the two of us together."

Auggie closed his eyes and sighed. "I should be happy about going back into the field, but I'm not completely so. Whose idea was this?"

"Annie's," Joan said. "Only way that she'd do it. Are you on board?"

"Yeah," Auggie said with resignation. "I'm your man."

"Then get out of here. Go get the information. … And don't get caught," Joan added as Annie and Auggie rose to leave.

"It's been a long time since we've been caught," Auggie said as he took Annie's arm. "A very long time."

The couple stopped in Auggie's office just long enough for Auggie to retrieve his cane from the drawer in his desk, and then they were off to 'lunch'.

On the way to the TGI Friday's in Tyson's Corner Mall Annie explained the way she had planned to make the transfer. At the end she added, "I'm sorry, dear, but I might deliberately do what I've always tried so hard not to allow you to do. I may have to let you run into the mark and –"

"That's brilliant! Now I know why you wanted me to come," Auggie exclaimed.

"You're okay with that?" Annie asked incredulously.

"Oh, yeah, I'm okay with that. If it got the intel I might let you take my cane away and leave me alone in the middle of the street."

"I would never do that!"'

"My wife would never do that, but Annie Anderson the spy just might," Auggie said as he gently touched Annie's arm. "And that's okay," he added.

Fifteen minutes later Annie was pulling into a parking spot in the parking deck closest to the entrance to the section of the mall that contained the TGI Fridays. Once in the mall Annie's practiced eye easily picked out the potential surveillance team. The FBI wasn't known for its subtlety.

As Annie and Auggie entered the restaurant, Annie scanned what she could of the familiar eatery for signs of the asset. She didn't see him, but did see another face that she recognized. It had been a while, but she'd never forget FBI Agent Vincent Rossabi. From the look on his face it was clear that he recognized her and Auggie, too.

Vincent Rossabi's recognition smile and "Don't I know you?" statement stopped Annie in her tracks as she and Auggie passed his table. "Ms Walker, isn't it?"

"Not anymore," Annie said. "It's been Mrs. Anderson for almost three years now," Annie added as she presented her left hand to Agent Rossabi.

"Do you still work for the same company that you did the last time we met?" Vincent Rossabi asked pointedly.

"Same company, different division. They keep their pregnant personnel in the office," Annie said as she patted her baby bump.

"So what are you doing here today?"

"Having lunch with my husband in one of our favorite places. We're allowed to do that?" Annie asked with more than a touch of sarcasm. "Nice seeing you again," Annie said as she moved to the booth that the host had indicated for them.

"Who was that?" Auggie asked in a louder than necessary voice. "His voice is familiar, but I can't place the face."

"Just someone I once worked with, dear. You met him once a long time ago."

"Oh, I know now. He's the sight-ist." An amused grin worked its way over Auggie's features.

"Yes, dear, the sight-ist," Annie said patting Auggie on the arm. "Shall we try to enjoy our lunch?"

Annie placed Auggie's hand on the booth seat and moved to sit in the seat with the best view of the restaurant and the back of agent Rossabi's head. There was still no sign of the asset. Even though she knew what she was going to order – the Caribbean Passion Tossed Salad with chicken – Annie made a show of looking over the menu. Auggie tentatively scanned the tabletop with his right hand until it bumped into the menu. One touch to the top of the menu and he withdrew his hand and let it fall to his lap.

"Do you know what you want? Or would you like the Braille menu?"

"Thought about a salad with some chicken on it," he answered. "What are you getting?"

"A salad with some chicken on it," Annie replied.

An amused grin spread across her husband's lips. "Which one? Pecan Crusted? Or the Caribbean one?"

"The Caribbean one," Annie stated.

"Then I'll get the Pecan Crusted one."

Annie looked up as someone stopped by the table. She recognized the server as the asset.

"I'm Zack. I'll be taking care of you today," he intoned by rote. "May I take your drink order? Something from the bar perhaps?"

"Just iced tea for me," Annie announced. "And the Caribbean Passion Salad with the chicken."

"I'd like an iced tea, too," Auggie proclaimed. "And the Pecan Crusted Chicken Salad with the vinaigrette dressing on the side."

"Zack is it? Where's Julio? I haven't seen him in a while. He always took such good care of us," Annie said using the code words she'd been given. The server looked from Annie to Auggie and back again.

"Julio? I've only been here a few weeks and don't know him. Sorry." He moved off toward the computer station.

After Zack had left the immediate area of the table Annie leaned across the table and whispered to Auggie, "That was the asset. I don't think this is going to be a traditional brush pass. More like a modified live drop. Reach out so that I can take your hand like we're having an intimate conversation."

Auggie snaked his right hand out across the table and Annie tenderly wrapped hers around it.

Just then Auggie's encrypted phone began to ring. He withdrew his hand from Annie's and answered it. "Hello. … Oh, Hi Mom. What's up? … Yeah, Annie's with me. We're having lunch. I can't believe that my very pregnant wife is flirting with our server. With a name like Zack, he's got to be a hunk. … Yeah, shamelessly flirting in front of her blind husband. And I wouldn't know if she slipped him her phone number. … Yeah, Mom. I'll be sure to tell her that. Like she ever listens to me ... Thanks for the information on Dad. Glad that he's doing better Got to go now." Auggie flipped his phone closed, ending the call. "Now where was I? Oh, -" He leaned back over the table.

"Joan?" Annie whispered.

"Yup. No new information but she knows we've ID'd the mark. If he doesn't pass the flash drive to us in our meals, we're just to have lunch and go back to work. No other contact to be attempted."

Annie huffed in frustration. "So much for that I guess."

"Don't give up so easily, Dear. We haven't even gotten our drinks yet," Auggie cautioned.

Just then Zack came back and set the glasses of iced tea on the table. "Two teas," he said as he did. From the pocket of his apron he pulled two sets of napkin wrapped flatware and placed them between the pair near the center of the table. Annie noticed a slight bulge in one of them; she moved that one closer to her and shifted the other one until it brushed against the back of Auggie's hand. Slowly unwrapping the flatware, Annie quickly palmed the flash drive as it tumbled out.

"Auggie, hand again," Annie whispered. With a soft grin Auggie placed his right hand on the table. "I'd rather the other one," Annie said softly. "I'm going to pass the flash drive to you." Annie smiled at Auggie and took his offered hand. They held hands across the table until their salads came. Then Auggie slipped his hand off the table and quickly pocketed the flash drive and returned his hand to the table to unwrap his flatware.

Annie and Auggie slowly ate their meals. While eating they spoke of household chores to be done when they got home, of Auggie's dad and his fictional illness, of normal married couple things. When they finished and Auggie settled the bill, they slipped out of the booth and headed out toward the entrance.

As she passed the table where agent Rossabi still lingered over his meal Annie said, "Auggie I swear this child of ours is destined to be a gymnast with all this flipping around he's been doing during lunch. Oh. Oh, now he's decided to be a football kicker." She stopped and placed a steadying hand on the back of the chair that Vincent Rossabi sat in. As he began to turn toward her, Annie took her hand off the chair back and moved on. She wore a smug little smile of accomplishment as she moved off.

Once they were in the car and Annie was certain that they'd not been followed from the mall, she finally let out a relieved sigh. "Mission accomplished," she said as she pulled out from the parking spot.

"Don't you think that last bit was a bit of oversell?" Auggie asked with amusement.

"Not at all. It was the truth. Your son was very active all through lunch," Annie said.

"My son? I thought you said the ultrasound wasn't able to tell the baby's gender. You holding out on me?" Auggie asked cautiously,

"No. I'm not holding out on you. The ultrasound couldn't determine the baby's gender with any certainty. They think it's a boy, but they're not sure. It's still possible it's a girl," Annie explained. "I just didn't want to get you all psyched up for a boy and it be a girl. A few days or weeks down the line I might be calling the baby her. "

"Oh. Okay," Auggie said unable to hide his disappointment.

"I'm sorry now that I said anything," Annie said as she pulled out of the parking deck onto the service road. She checked her mirrors to see if another vehicle was behind her. There was but it was a woman with a couple of kids in the backseat. Annie was pretty sure that it wouldn't be a tail.

"It's okay, Annie," Auggie said. "I know that I'll love the baby whatever it is, but there's this part of me that really wants a son."

"And I really want this one to be a boy, too." Annie laughed. "Now we are doomed to have a girl."

In a few minutes they were pulling onto the main entry road into the complex of buildings simply known as 'Langley'. Ten minutes later they were in Joan Campbell's office handing over the flash drive.

"Did you have a nice lunch on the agency's dime?" Joan asked as Annie and Auggie entered her office.

"Nice enough," Auggie stated. "Ran into an old friend of Annie's."

Joan gave Annie a puzzled look.

"Remember that FBI agent that busted me at Brambles? Agent Rossabi? He was there. We exchanged pleasantries," Annie explained. "I don't think he even suspected that Auggie and I were there for anything more than a simple lunch. The asset seemed surprised, but we got the intel without any complications."

"We won't know that for sure until we take a look at what's on the flash drive. How soon can you get on that, Auggie?"

"Now. If that's what you'd like," Auggie said turning toward the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, did you like it? Do you want more? Any suggestions for what you might like me to explore?<strong>

**I have absolutely NO IDEA when the next snippet will come to me or be posted.**


	2. Going Downhill

For 'Savitha'. And because I had the idea for it floating around even before whe asked for it. It's sort of long, but I hope you'll like it just the same. I've borrowed a name from another work of fiction from a published work of an author I respect. And used that work as research and inspiration for some of the skiing information.

Mandy58 has looked it over and declared it fit to post.

I do not own Auggie or Annie, just this version of a future them. Hope you enjoy the journey I've taken them on.

One a side note: I am also now the proud owner of Christopher Gorham's final shooting script from 'Communication Breakdown'. It's signed by him, Piper Perabo, Kari Matchett, Anne Dudeck, and Sendhil Ramamurthy. It's still in it's mailing envelope here on my desk until I figure out how best to keep it safe but still available to see to prove that it's real and it's mine.

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><p>Annie hung up the landline after talking to Auggie's oldest sister-in-law, Olivia. She was smiling over the fact that she'd been able to get the Anderson clan to change the destination of their winter family trip to Colorado from Aspen to Winter Park. Winter Park was the home of the National Sports Center for the Disabled and had the premiere ski program for the blind in the United States. She'd made reservations for her and Auggie beginning a full day before the rest of the family was going to arrive. And she'd scheduled Auggie for a ski guide for the weekend. Now all she had to do was get Auggie there. He was being stubborn about the vacation that was still three months away.<p>

"Who were you talking to?" Auggie asked as he entered the bedroom where Annie sat on the edge of their bed.

"Livie," Annie answered.

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"I called her," Annie replied.

"Why?"

"Girl stuff. Your Mom's birthday is coming up and I wanted an idea of what to send her." That wasn't a total fabrication; she and Olivia had talked about that before Annie wanted to suggest a change in venue for the January winter get-together and why she wanted it to change.

"You get an idea or two?" Auggie asked as he sat beside her on the bed.

"Yeah, I did. We're going in with the rest of the family and getting her a day at her favorite spa. Every woman likes a day of special pampering."

"How much is this going to cost me?"

"Just a hundred bucks, but I've got this one covered. I'm sending Livie a check in the morning."

"And I'll just let you," Auggie said as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her backward on the bed.

They lay like that for a few minutes, and then Annie asked, "Why are you so adamant about not joining the rest of the family on their winter get-together? That subject was touched on when I was talking with Livie. I didn't know what to say about why we're not going to join them in January."

Auggie huffed in a mixture of exasperation and disgust. "We've discussed this. You know why. Just tell them the truth. I'm blind and winter sports no longer have my interest."

"Auggie, it doesn't have to be that way," Annie began, a touch of pleading in her voice.

Auggie sat up quickly. "Drop it, Annie. Just drop it." He rose and strode out of the bedroom.

A few minutes later Annie heard Auggie shuffling through CD cases in their home office. When she passed the open door a few minutes later she saw her husband with his headphones on, tilted back in the office chair. A Braille volume of a book or magazine was open on his lap, his hands rested on it, but he was not reading. He had retreated into himself as he was wont to do when upset. As much as she wanted to go into the room and wrap her arms around him, she did not. She knew that it would do no good.

Annie continued on into the living room. If there was one area of his life that Auggie was not open about it was winter sports. In all other aspects of life, Auggie met what the world had to offer with good grace if not excitement and eagerness, but this one he kept walled off. His late night admission of being afraid to ski no longer seemed sufficient enough a reason. In her heart Annie knew there was something more to it than just that. She could only hope that one day he'd let her in on it. But if he never did, she'd understand. There were things about herself that she'd just as soon not get into and have to explain, too.

Over the next few months Annie gently planted seeds of interest in Auggie about joining the rest of the family in Colorado the second weekend in January. A few gentle prods from his brothers, especially Austin, finally got Auggie to agree to go to Colorado. No one mentioned the name of the resort to Auggie for fear that he'd connect the dots and know what Annie had planned. A plan that they fully endorsed.

Although he'd never been overly enthusiastic on the winter vacation, Auggie packed for the long weekend without complaint. The trip to the airport, and even the first part of the flights were not bad, but as the day wore on, and the schlepping of bags from one gate to another go old, they began to become quiet with each other. As they deplaned in Denver and headed off to get the rental car for the journey to the resort, Auggie asked plaintively, "Tell me again why we're doing this?"

"At least the weather's been cooperating and we haven't had any delayed flights. We're supposed to be spending a relaxing weekend with your brothers."

"Ha. Right now I have no good idea why I let you talk me into this."

"Because you love me?"

"Got to be that, 'cause there's no other reason to do this," Auggie said and grinned tiredly.

Annie stopped at the rental car counter, finished the paperwork to get the rental car keys, and then headed over to baggage claim to get their checked bags. It took a bit longer than Annie thought that it should, but soon she and Auggie were on the road to Winter Park. Almost an hour-and-a-half later they were approaching the check-in desk in the lobby of the Winter Park Resort.

"Welcome to Winter Park Ski Resort," the young woman behind the counter greeted them. "Do you have reservations?"

"Supposed to," Auggie said taking a step forward to the counter. "August Anderson."

"My goodness," the clerk exclaimed, "there's a bunch of Andersons coming in this weekend. Ah, there you are. We have you in room 301. The equipment and bags you shipped in are already in your room."

"My family chose to invade you with their annual winter get-away this year. You will never be the same after we leave."

"I doubt that. We had the whole Paralympic ski team here last year. That was a blast."

Annie watched with concern as Auggie's features changed from simply tired to angry comprehension. He finished the check-in process in relative silence. It wasn't until they were safely in their room that he unleashed his fury.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Auggie grabbed Annie and spun her around so that she faced him. "Anne Catherine Anderson, I see your hand all over the selection of this place for this weekend's get-together. How hard did you have to campaign for here?"

"Not hard at all. They were most receptive to the change in venue."

"I'm sure they were once you told them what was here. Damnit Annie, you lied to me." For the first time in their relationship, Auggie raised his voice to Annie.

"Didn't outright lie. You never asked where we were going," Annie replied. The Auggie before her – face drawn as tight as the muscles bulging beneath his grey sweater and with hands curled into hard fists at his side —was not one that she'd seen before and he almost frightened her.

"A lie by omission is even worse than an outright verbal lie. You got me here under false pretenses. I can deal with the lies and half-truths at work. It's expected. I do not expect nor appreciate them in our marriage. I trust you Annie. I need to be able to trust you on so many levels. What else have you failed to tell me?"

"I've arranged for a ski guide for you for this weekend," Annie said in a meek tone.

"Goddamnit, Annie. You can just un-arranged that in the morning. You know how I feel about skiing."

"You said you were afraid. I thought that with the proper instruction and encouragement you could overcome that."

Annie reached out and touched Auggie's chest. He roughly brushed her arm away.

"No! … If it was just about that I could have, would have done something about that a long time ago." He pushed past her. "Where's the goddamned bed?"

"To your right. It's a king. The bathroom door is here on the right, too."

"Is there a sofa?" Auggie asked as he moved to the far side of the bed, right leg ghosting along the outline of the bed.

"No. Just an easy chair and a desk chair."

Auggie ripped the bedspread off the bed and grabbed one of the pillows. "In that case, you can have the bed. I'll take the floor. In the morning I'll be making arrangements to go back to DC. I'm not letting you get away with this one."

"Auggie," Annie said pleadingly. "I'm sorry. I didn't think that you'd react like this. I was ready for pissed –"

"Don't Auggie me in that tone of voice. Pissed? You expected pissed? I am so far beyond pissed I don't even think there's a word for how I feel right now. But betrayed comes to mind."

"Can we talk about this?"

"Not now. I'm tired, frustrated and … and …pissed. Maybe in the morning." He pushed past her on his way to the bathroom. "Is this one mine?" he asked as he bumped into a suitcase.

"Yes," Annie replied quietly. "There's a bench for it just to your left."

Without another word Auggie lifted his bag onto the rack, opened it, fished out his sleepwear and shaving kit, and went into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later wiping the remnants of toothpaste foam from around his mouth with a towel.

Annie sadly watched Auggie cautiously make his way to the space between the bed and the outside wall where he settled onto the floor with the pillow and bedspread that he's taken from the bed earlier. Within a few minutes his breathing indicated that he was asleep.

Quietly Annie got herself ready for bed and crawled into bed. Unlike her husband, it took her a good bit of time to fall asleep. Her mind kept going over the events from the time they'd checked in until Auggie fell asleep. She could make no sense of the anger that she'd seen in him. A vaguely empty feeling accompanied her into sleep.

In the morning the sound of the shower running woke Annie. Rolling over she looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was a little after six AM local time – a bit after eight AM DC time. Mother Nature was calling to Annie and she rose from the bed and crossed to the bathroom door. She softly knocked on the closed door.

"Are you going to be much longer?" Annie asked through the door.

She heard movement in the bathroom and then the door opened slightly. Warm moisture rolled out of the opening. After quickly relieving herself, Annie spoke to Auggie.

"Can we talk now?" There was not pleading in her voice, just a simple question.

"No," Auggie responded without stopping scraping the razor over his neck.

"Oh." Annie sighed sadly. "Are you still planning on leaving today?"

Auggie finished the last two strokes on his neck before answering. "I'm not sure. Depends on you."

"On me? Why?"

"We'll talk in a bit. Over breakfast. Just get ready quickly. We missed dinner last night and I'm really hungry."

Half-an-hour later they were in the resort's dining room nursing hot cups of coffee. Given the hour that they were there, Annie was surprised at the number of people in the dining room. It was still dark out, but the room was a half full of people in various stages of eating.

After they'd ordered hearty meals, Annie softly touched Auggie's hand. "Can we talk now? Make me understand why you're so adamant about not wanting to ski again. I understand the nervousness, but there's something more than that. You said as much."

"First I want to let you know that I'm still very upset with you. You pull another stunt like this one and you could very well find yourself living in the condo alone. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Annie said. She was shocked both by what Auggie said and the firm, no nonsense way that he said it. She believed him.

"I don't want to ski anymore because it will not be the same as when I could see. And for reasons beyond the obvious. The reason that I skied in the first place is gone. I skied to be free, alone with my thoughts and the challenge of the terrain and the conditions of the snow. It will never be that again. Oh, maybe, if I'm lucky, for a few brief minutes, but never again the same as it was. Even this long after, I don't want to be reminded of all that I lost. Mechanically, even though it's been a while, I know that I can still ski. I just don't want to."

"Oh," Annie said quietly. "I think I understand. You said earlier that your staying for the rest of the weekend depended on me. How?"

"I'll stay if you just don't make me ski."

"I can't make you do anything that you don't want to do. I was just hoping that once I got you here you'd want to ski with us. We're supposed to meet the ski guide at 9:00. Would you make one run? Just one run? Then I'll drop it."

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Auggie said with frustration.

"Yeah, I heard you. It's not going to be the same. I understand that. That doesn't mean it can't still be fun, challenging, even a little exciting. Is that really too much to ask? That's all I really ever wanted for you. One run. On the beginner slope if it has to be."

"You're not going to be happy until I've got a pair of skis on are you?"

"I don't think you'll be happy until you know for sure. You need to do this for you. You've been hiding from this, avoiding this for too long. That is so not like you. You meet your fears and challenges with grace and courage. I think at some point you might regret not trying."

"You've given your argument some thought haven't you?" The anger in his face had dissolved into pensiveness.

"Yeah. A little. Just stating what seems obvious to me."

"Let me think about it," Auggie finally said.

Annie did a little happy dance in her seat. He was softening. As Annie was wiggling in her seat, the server came with their meals and fresh coffee. They mostly ate in silence, but half-way through the meal Auggie spoke, "One run, on the beginner slope. Then you'll leave me alone about it?"

"Yes. I won't ask you again. I might ask if you want to go snowmobiling, or on the toboggan run. Maybe even ice skating, but I won't ask you to ski."

"Okay then, I'll do one run on the beginner slope. That's all that I'll commit to."

"That's all I asked for," Annie said putting down her fork and patting the back of Auggie's hand.

"That's probably all you're gonna get," Auggie said seriously. "Although it does seem a waste of a full days equipment rental for just one run."

"You don't have to rent equipment," Annie said matter-of-factly. "Your skis, boots, and other ski gear are in the room. Your brothers had it shipped in with theirs."

"Damnit, Annie. You planned for everything didn't you?"

"I had high hopes, Auggie. Just high hopes."

# # # # #

At quarter-to-nine Auggie, on Annie's arm, checked in at the desk for the National Sports Center for the Disabled on the main floor of the Winter Park ski center with his equipment and lift pass in hand.

As they approached the desk, the receptionist greeted them warmly. "You must be Mr. Anderson. I'm glad you've gotten your equipment already. Let's you get on the slopes quicker. Your instructor is in the building but isn't here quite yet. We've assigned one of our senior instructors to you – Brendan McCarthy. I think you'll enjoy your day with him."

"Is there anything I have to sign or fill out before we get on the slopes?" Auggie asked.

"No," the woman behind the desk replied. "We know that you've skied before, just not in a while. Brendan will talk to you a bit on the lift to get a better idea of where to begin with your instruction. You can trust Brendan; he won't let anything happen to you. … Here he comes now. He's approaching from your three o'clock."

As the instructor approached closer, Auggie stuck out his hand, "Auggie Anderson. My wife Annie."

The handshake that Auggie received was firm, strong and confident. The tension that Auggie was feeling diminished by ten percent with that handshake. He could tell a lot about a person from a simple handshake. Auggie knew that this man knew what he was doing.

"Nice to meet you, Auggie. I think that we'll have a good day on the slopes. I've been doing this for a while and I haven't lost anyone yet." He broke the handshake with Auggie. "Annie. Your husband is in good hands. Will you be skiing with us?"

"I'd like to; if that's allowed," Annie replied.

"Of course it's allowed," Brendan said. "You just have to remember that I'm in charge of your husband while we're on the lift and slopes."

"I understand," Annie stated.

"Actually, I'm going to take charge of Auggie here right now," Brendan stated touching Auggie on the arm.

Auggie took the cue and grasped Brendan's right elbow with his left hand. "I understand that you've skied before. Is that correct?"

"Yeah. I've skied before. But it's been a few years."

"May I ask how long you've been blind?" Brendan asked softly.

"I've been blind coming up on six years. I'm pretty adjusted to living in the dark if that's what you want to know. I still have my moments when it totally sucks, but it's okay most of the time."

They'd exited the building and were now crunching across the snowpack. "It's time to put on our skis," Brendan said as he stopped and dropped his skis on the snow. He and Annie quickly got their skis on, while Auggie slightly fumbled with his bindings.

"Need some help, honey?" Annie asked from beside him.

"No," Auggie huffed. "Just a minute to work it out. … There," he finally said as he rose to his feet.

"Now I need for you to put this bib on," Brendan said placing the soft vinyl vest in Auggie's hand.

Auggie sighed softly and began to examine the vest. "This thing got a front or back?" he asked. He'd seen the labeling bibs before and knew that it boldly proclaimed 'BLIND SKIER'. He knew that it was part of the price that he had to pay to satisfy Annie's want. He also knew that Brendan wore one that proclaimed him a 'BLIND GUIDE'.

"Nope," Brendan grunted. "It's the same on both sides."

Auggie pulled the bib over his head and Annie tied one side while Brendan tied the other.

"Now that I'm adequately labeled, can we get on with this?" Auggie asked a bit impatiently. All he wanted at the moment was for this whole ordeal to be over. He'd promised Annie one run and he wanted it over with so that he could go back inside and make arrangements to get back to DC. Being with his brothers and their families and hearing all about the wonderful time they were having on the ski trails no longer held event the faintest bit of interest for him.

"Yeah," Brendan said with enthusiasm. "Take my arm and we'll ski over to the chair lift. Keep your skis parallel to mine or we'll both fall if they cross."

"Ever had that happen?" Annie asked from where she skied to the left of the ski instructor.

"Once or twice," Brendan acknowledged. "Not a good way to begin a lesson."

As they moved in tandem to the ski lift, Auggie couldn't help but notice how easily, how smoothly that the instructor moved with him. As they approached the lift Auggie inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled.

"Nervous?" Brendon asked.

"Yeah. A little," Auggie replied.

"Everyone is the first time. Some more so than others. It's okay. Even expected. It's a new experience and is a bit frightening. Even if you've skied before. … Okay, we're in line at the lift. When we're next I'll side step onto the ramp and you'll follow me. When the chair is coming I'll count it down to you like this 3 … 2 … 1 and you reach back with your right hand and feel for the seat. Then just sit and we'll ride to the top."

A few minutes later Auggie and his instructor were on their way up the mountain.

"Where's Annie?" Auggie asked as soon as he was seated.

"On the chair behind us. Next time I'll let her ride with us, but I wanted to talk with you without her around."

"Why?"

"You're not here willingly are you?"

"It's that obvious?"

"Not really. Just a feeling I got. And I sense a bit of tension between you and your wife."

"Yeah. She got me here by lying to me. She made all of the arrangements without my knowledge. I finally promised her one try on the beginner slope so she'd quit hounding me."

Brendan chuckled a bit under his breath.

"What's so funny?"

"Your situation. Usually it's the blind skier who's all gung-ho and the spouse or significant other who's all reluctant about the whole thing. … Why don't you want to ski again? What kind of skier were you when you skied?

"I was bold. I skied any slope they had. The more challenging the better. I come from a big family. When I was alone on the slopes it was one of the few times I was free to be me. That's gone now. Skiing no longer has my interest."

"I'm sorry to hear that you feel that way. But, I understand how you might feel that way, too. Skiing with a guide just isn't the same as skiing on your own, but that doesn't mean that you have to settle for the easy slopes. I've skied every slope here behind a blind skier. The more challenging runs were fun and exhilarating for both of us. Do you normally have problems with trusting others to keep you safe?"

"Yeah. A little. Never sure of their motive. There are people around me that I've come to trust implicitly, strangers I just have to go on faith with."

"Do you trust me?"

"Have to," Auggie replied. "But that's not the reason for the nervousness."

"As part of our training to be guides for you guys, we've had to ski under blindfold. I'm not going to lie to you. It was one of the scariest things I've ever done. I will say that it does take some courage to do. I think that you've got the courage to ski well again."

"I know that I do. I just don't really want to ski anymore," Auggie said with finality.

"We're almost to the top. Just ski off the lift like always. There's nothing in the way for a ways and I'll be back on your left side quickly to guide you to the top of Bill Wilson's Way. That's the beginner slope. Have you ever skied here before?"

"No. We usually skied Aspen, Vail or Steamboat," Auggie replied. "Why does it matter if I've skied here before?"

"Doesn't really matter," Brendan replied. "Those that have skied here before say that the visual memory helps a bit with orientation."

Auggie felt the ground once again beneath his skis and pushed off from the lift. A few moments later he felt as much as heard his instructor beside him once again. Together they moved off toward the top of the beginner's slope. Auggie was surprised at the wave of fear that passed over him. He felt his grip on Brendan's arm tighten.

"It's okay," Brendan said softly. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. No one's expecting you to blast down the slope like nothing ever happened. Ski at your own pace – where you feel the most comfortable."

Auggie did not respond in any way except to loosen his death grip on his guides arm.

A few minutes later Brendan stopped. "Here we are at the top of Bill Wilson's Way. It's a wide open gentle slope. Good for getting your feet wet again. Conditions are good, not great and far from perfect, but very skiable. I'll be following in your tracks I'll call out to you when you need to turn and telling you which direction you need to turn. Your wife has just joined us. She'll follow me down this time. Whenever you're ready."

Auggie took in a deep breath and held it for a moment before slowly exhaling. It had been a long time since he'd been this nervous – since his early days in rehab. He pushed off and began to glide down the slope. _Whoa_, he thought and brought his ski tips together to slow his momentum. "Damnit," he muttered under his breath. "Buck up, Anderson," he whispered to himself. He straightened his skis and continued on. On command he made a left turn, then a quick right. Another bringing together of his ski tips to slow his speed down. A few more turns, and fear gripped him again. He brought the tips of his skis together once again. This time to a complete stop. Behind him two skiers slid to a stop but did not speak for several moments.

"You're doing great," Brendan said encouragingly. "You've made it a third of the way down. It's all downhill from here."

Auggie smiled at the weak joke and pushed back off. He listened to Brendan's instructions and slowly gained confidence as he traversed the slopes. He didn't break any speed records, but Auggie made it to the bottom of the slope without stopping or slowing again. When he stopped at the bottom of the slope he allowed a satisfied grin to lift the corners of his mouth.

"Good job," Brendan complimented as he skied up beside Auggie. "What's next?"

Before he could answer Brendan, Annie stopped beside him. When she spoke he could tell that she was fighting back tears. "Oh, honey, that was a very good first run. Better than I expected. I won't insist, but I hope you'll consider another one."

"It was good?" Auggie asked.

"Yes," Brendan said. "At the end you were getting a good rhythm going. I could tell you'd skied well before. You have potential to ski well again."

"I do?" Auggie asked with a bit of surprise. His run hadn't felt all that wonderful to him.

"Yeah. You do," Brendan stated.

"Okay, then, where's the lift? Let's try this again," Auggie said with an enthusiasm that surprised even him.

The trio made another run at an easy slope – Village Way – and then a run on Crammer, an intermediate slope.

It was on Cramer that 'it' happened.

Brendan guided Auggie to the top of the run. "This is Cramer," Brendan began. "It's a wide-open intermediate slope; but it does have some good pitch to it. I think that you're more than ready for this one, Auggie. Push off whenever you're ready and I'll follow in your tracks."

With a little bit of nervousness, Auggie pushed off. This time, as his momentum increased, the nervousness soon dissolved into excitement as more of the memories of flying down mountainsides came back to him. With Brendan's voice to guide him, Auggie soon developed a rhythm to his skiing. Turn; and turn. Traverse and turn. Traverse and turn; the edges of his skis expertly cutting into the snow.

A few more turns and Auggie heard Brendan say, "The way is clear in front of you Auggie. I'll turn you loose for a bit. It's just you and the mountain now."

Auggie pushed harder, keeping the rhythm he'd begun going as he allowed the slope to fall away beneath his skis. After a few turns Auggie startled himself by letting out a whoop of pure joy. It seemed to echo off the surrounding peaks. Behind him he heard a softer whoop in a voice that was definitely female. No, it was not the same as it had been before, but it was pretty damn close. For not the first time that morning Auggie wondered to himself what he'd been afraid of. Skiing was still fun.

After a few more minutes of freedom, Auggie heard Brendan's voice once again. "Okay, Auggie. The course takes a right curve in a little bit. I'll guide you around it and then, if the way is still clear, I'll let you ski on your own again."

True to his word, Brendan skillfully guided Auggie around the turn in the course and set him free once more.

After a few minutes of skiing freely, Brendan's voice began again, "Okay, Auggie, you're going to be overtaking slower skiers. Transfer both poles into your right hand and hold out your left arm. I'm coming up beside you and you'll need to take my arm just like we did before. I'll call a turn and whichever of us is on the uphill side will initiate it. Just don't let your heels go wide."

Once again Brendan negotiated Auggie through the crowded area without significant loss of speed. The pair seemed to ski as one.

No, it wasn't as good as skiing when he could still see, but it was far from as intrusive to have a guide telling him what to do than he thought it would be. There were long periods when, if he wasn't skiing on his own, that he was able to push Brendan's cues to the back of his mind – just a voice in the back of his head taking the place of his own instincts. Auggie once again almost hated to admit it; but it was enjoyable to ski again.

As he skied to a stop after the last run of the day, Auggie heard faint applause and an unmistakable  
>"Woot, Woot." Then there was the sound of running feet approaching; and then firm arms wrapping themselves around him.<p>

"Man that was awesome!" Austin said with unmistakable emotion. "I was wonderful seeing you coming down that slope just like I remembered you doing. How's it going, Bro?"

"It's going good," Auggie said slapping his brother on the back. "I should have listened to you years ago. It's not like it was, but it's good. I'm enjoying myself. … Are you the only one that's here now?"

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Brendan asked cutting in on the brotherly reunion.

"Oh, hells yeah," Auggie responded. "Thanks man. Wait. I've got you again tomorrow?"

"You've got me all weekend. Unless you want someone else that is."

"Oh, no," Auggie said hurriedly. "I'm used to you now. Someone else in my head would just confuse me. And I'm confused enough already." Auggie smiled at his own joke.

"Tomorrow it is," Brendan said as he moved off.

When Brendan was gone Austin said, "No. We're all here. We all came in on the same flight. The flight crew didn't quite know what to make of the invasion of Andersons."

"All of you? On one flight? Wouldn't it have been just a cheap to charter a flight?" Annie asked.

"We thought about a charter, but we couldn't find one big enough for all of us," Austin said.

"Where's everyone then?" Auggie asked bending down to undo his bindings.

"Oh. After we checked in we split up looking for you. I had a hunch that you'd be around this area. I'm glad that my hunch panned out. The smile on your face coming in was wonderful to see."

"Here," Auggie said thrusting his skis in his brother's direction, "make yourself useful and carry my skis for me." He felt the skis being taken from his hand.

"Do we have to go looking for the rest of the family now?" Auggie asked.

"No. Whoever found you first was to call in to Adam and he'd let everyone else know to come in. We're to meet at 6:30 in the lodge's dining room."

Once they'd entered into the building Auggie went to unzip his parka and his hand encountered the vinyl bib that he'd put on that morning. He released his grip on Annie's arm and stopped walking. He quickly pulled off his mittens and shoved them between his thighs freeing both hands to untie the knots holding the two sections of the bib together. As he undid the ties on one side, Annie undid the ones on the other.

Once he'd pulled it off Auggie said, "I may have to wear this outside, but I'll be damned if I wear it in here."

Annie took the offending badge from him. "There's no one at the desk now, but since we'll need this again tomorrow, I'll take charge of it for now."'

"Adam," Austin said into his phone. "I've found them. … Yeah, Augs was skiing just like he'd never stopped. And grinning like that Cheshire Cat, too. … Yeah, we'll meet you in the dining room at 6:30."

# # # # #

After going to their room and changing out of their ski apparel, Annie and Auggie joined the others in the dining room. Annie was not surprised to see that the Anderson clan had taken over a corner of the dining room by shoving several tables together. What she was surprised over was seeing Abigail and Alfred Anderson at the head of one of the lines of shoved together tables. After settling into the two empty seats to Abigail's left Annie inquired, "What brings the two of you here this weekend. I thought that it was just going to be the boys and their families."

"We may not ski any longer, but we do still enjoy the time with our sons and their families," Abigail said as she looked down the table at her children. Her eyes finally came to rest on her youngest son. Even though she was aware that he could not see it, she smiled warmly at Auggie. "And I had to know first hand if my youngest was once again flying down the slopes with great abandon."

"Not quite flying as I once did, and definitely not with great abandon, but I am skiing again, Mom. And it is good."

"You look happy," Alfred remarked.

"I am Dad. I am."

* * *

><p>It took a while to research and write, but I hope you liked this glimpse into the married life of my Auggie and Annie. I'm working on two other glimpses into the life of Annie and Auggie Anderson. Milestones in the life of any married couple. One is complete and in the hands of my beta for review and the other is nearly done.<p>

I'd love to know what you thought of this brief glimpse into Auggie overcoming one of his deamons. Please take the time to make a comment.


	3. Defending Daddy

**I hesitate to post this story so soon after the other. You, dear reader, might get spoiled and want more sooner that I'm able to write them. But, I'm really proud of this one and want to share it now.**

**Both Mandy58 and Resourceress7 have offered suggestions/corrections for which I thank them.**

**The usual disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Annie and Auggie, just my vision of a future them together.**

* * *

><p>Christopher Austin Anderson stood before his mother, Anne Catherine Walker-Anderson with his head down. He was trying, without much success, to keep his mother from seeing the bruise around his right eye. He couldn't keep her from seeing the tears in his new shirt.<p>

Annie squatted down before her firstborn and put a finger under his chin. She gently lifted her son's head until she looked him in the eyes. "I know all about it Christopher. Your teacher called just after you got in the fight while waiting for the bus. What I want to know is why you thought you had to take on a boy so much bigger than you?"

Christopher tried to move his head to avoid his mother's gaze and shuffled his feet.

"I want to hear it from you. You're already suspended from school for three days for fighting. If your father and I decide you had a good enough reason for fighting you may not get any punishment from us. … Tell me Chris. What happened?"

"He called … he called Daddy a bad name," Christopher blurted out.

"What did the other boy call your Daddy, Chris?" Annie asked softly.

"He said that Daddy's blind."

"But, Chris, your Daddy is blind."

"I know, but he said it like it was a bad thing. Like Daddy shouldn't be able to do any of the things he does. He just made me so mad I couldn't stop from wanting to hit him. So I did."

Annie stifled the smile that threatened to break her serious mommy expression. "What have we always told you about hitting and fighting?"

"Not to unless I was defending myself," Christopher said in a very small voice. "But I was defending Daddy," he blurted out.

Annie stood up. "I understand that, Christopher. Now go to your room and change your clothes. We'll see what Daddy has to say about this when he gets home." Annie sighed as she watched her little man trudge down the hall dragging his purple backpack behind him. From his resigned gait and slumped shoulders, Annie knew her barely six-years-old son was expecting the worst in punishment – no video games for a week.

A plaintive, "Mommy, where are you?" from the playroom made Annie turn her attention back to her almost three-year-old daughter, Corrine. Corrine Abigail had been kept home from pre-school today for running a fever and complaints of a tummy ache that morning. Reluctantly Annie had called in to work saying that she had to stay home with a sick child. Normally she would have dropped Corry off at Danielle's for the day, but Danielle and Michael were on a much-deserved cruise of the Caribbean.

A few minutes after she'd settled back on the floor beside Corry and began to color with her daughter once again, Chris came into the room torn shirt in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," he said in a timid voice. "I ruined my new shirt, too."

"I know. It's okay. It's only a shirt," Annie said taking the slightly ripped garment from her son. "How does your eye feel?"

The youngster shrugged his shoulders. "It feels okay. Mostly." He was eying the game console longingly.

"Go ahead. It's not been taken away yet," Annie said. "Just until dinner time."

Christopher bounded over to the game console and was soon engrossed in his favorite Disney video game.

Even though her son was interacting more with his game than with his mother**, **Annie thoroughly enjoyed the time with her children that afternoon. She did briefly slip away and make arrangements to be off for the next few days, also. That didn't go over too well with her boss, but there really wasn't much she could do about it. If Danielle or Chloe were around it would not be a problem, but they weren't, so she'd have to make do.

A while later, as she was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on supper, Annie heard the familiar, and comforting, sounds of her husband's cane on the porch. She looked toward the back door expectantly. A few moments later the door opened and her husband of nearly ten years entered. The sight of him still thrilled her. Auggie might be graying at the temples, and crow's feet were beginning around his eyes, but he was still handsome. But tonight Annie could tell that he was tired. She wondered if the events of the last few months had finally caught up with him. She almost hated to add to his burden by telling him about the trouble with their son. But she knew that she had to tell him.

"Annie?" he said as he shut the door behind him.

"Here; in the kitchen," she replied. "Finishing up supper."

After quickly folding his cane and placing it and his keys in their customary spot on the table beside the back door, Auggie crossed the short distance between the door and Annie.

"How's Corry? Is she really sick? Warren mentioned that you'd asked for more time off while we rode down in the elevator together." Worry laced his words.

"Corry's fine," Annie replied as Auggie stopped before her. They exchanged a brief welcoming kiss. "It's Chris I need to stay home with," Annie said softly. "He's been suspended from school for three days for fighting."

"He's what?" Auggie exclaimed. "No, not our Christopher."

"Yes. Our Christopher," Annie said patting Auggie on the chest. "And he started the fight. He wasn't just defending himself."

Auggie sighed wearily. "Tell me about it. Did he have a good reason to start a fight?"

"He thought he did. He was defending the honor of someone he loves very much. It seems that one of his classmates said some very unkind things about his father."

"About me?" Auggie asked incredulously. "What could anyone say about me that would rile my son up so much?"

"The other boy said that you were blind and in such a way that it sounded like a bad word to your son."

"Did Chris win?" A quick flicker of pride passed over Auggie's features.

"In his own way, I guess. The other boy was taller and a bit heavier than our little Chris, but the teacher said that Chris split the other boy's lip and he'll probably have a black eye, too."

"Too? As in Chris has a shiner, also?"

"Yup." Annie said. "Just a bit of bruising around the temple area. His eye isn't bloodshot or anything. He'll be fine."

"Okay," Auggie said with relief. "I'll talk to him after supper. What do you think is a fair punishment? Even though it seems he had a good reason, in his mind, to fight, we can't let him think it's acceptable behavior can we?"

"No. We can't. I was thinking that no video games for the duration of his suspension from school. Just three days; but three long days without his games."

"Agreed. Three days sounds fair. … How long before supper? Do I have time to change clothes?"

"Yes. Go get comfortable. On your way past the playroom would you tell the kids to come and set the table?"

"Will do," Auggie said as he started out of the kitchen and down the hall. Moments later squeals of joy as the children greeted their father made Annie smile.

# # # # #

After supper, Auggie ushered his son into the den and closed the door. He sat in the leather wingback chair and motioned for his son to sit on the ottoman facing him. This was the customary configuration for their man-to-boy talks. Only thing different this time was that Auggie didn't wear his stern father face.

Auggie sighed deeply and reached his right hand out and placed it on his son's shoulder. "Your Mom tells me that you're in trouble at school." His tone of voice was not stern, but more conversational. Comforting.

Christopher didn't say anything. Auggie felt his son lower his head.

"Chris," Auggie began, "I'm not angry with you. And you're not in that much trouble here at home, but I do want to understand why you thought you had to do what you did." Auggie shifted his hand so that the thumb rested on his son's cheek. Gently he raised Christopher's head.

"Johnny said that you were blind," Christopher said.

"What's so wrong with that?" Auggie gently asked. "It's the truth. I am blind."

"He said it like it was a bad word. Like you were a bad person for not being able to see," Christopher said with a small sob.

"Ah. I see," Auggie said quietly. "How did that make you feel?" he gently probed.

Christopher shrugged his shoulders. After a few moments of silence he said, "First it made me sad. The more he said it, then I got mad. The more he said it the more I wanted to hit him. When he added another bad word to it I just lost it and slugged him in the belly."

"How did that feel?"

"It felt good until he hit me back. That hurt. I got a black eye, Daddy."

Auggie was having a hard time keeping from smiling at his son. He couldn't help but be a little bit proud of Christopher. "That's what your Mom said. Can I see it? Does it hurt a lot?"

"Don't hurt too bad, Daddy," Christopher said as he took his father's left hand and guided it to the right side of his face. He winced slightly as his father's fingers traced the swollen area.

"Sorry," Auggie said to his son. "You know, sometimes people don't know how to behave around blind people because they don't understand what it's really like to be blind. Sometimes they're afraid that it could happen to them, too. Do you think that might be Johnny's problem?" He withdrew his left hand from his son's face and let it fall back into his lap.

"I don't know. Maybe. I didn't know why he was saying bad things about you when he didn't know you."

"Do you think he might like me better if he knew me? Understood what being blind is really all about?"

"How would we do that, Daddy?" Christopher asked in a brighter voice.

"I was thinking that maybe I'd take you back to school on Monday when you're allowed to come back and talk to your class. Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Yeah, Daddy. You'd do that? I know how much you don't like to talk about being blind."

"I don't talk about it a lot because I don't think it's a big deal. It's just part of who I am. And it's not something I can change. It's like you having freckles, or being a little bit shy. One you can't change and the other you can work to try to overcome. That's me and being blind. I can't change it and I've had to work hard at overcoming some of the obstacles it's put in front of me. I'm not ashamed of being blind. And you shouldn't be ashamed of me for that either. And no one else should try to make you feel ashamed of me."

"I'm not, Daddy. I'm proud of you. I think you're the best Daddy in the whole world. Even better than some of my friends' daddies who can see."

Emotion threatened to send tears to Auggie's eyes. He had to swallow hard a couple of times before he could speak again. "And I'm proud of you, too. But that doesn't mean that you're getting off scot free for fighting. You can't play any video games while you're out of school. You'll have to do your schoolwork just like if you were in school, too. The next three days are not going to be a vacation for you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy. I understand," Christopher said in a strong voice as he scooted off the ottoman.

Auggie checked the time on his watch. "It's time for you to get ready for bed, young man. You don't have to take a bath tonight, but you need to go get into your pj's. And pick up the stuff on your floor. It's my turn to tuck you in tonight."

"Okay, Daddy," Christopher said as he opened the door.

As soon as Christopher had left the den, Annie came in. "How did it go?"

"Good. It went good. You're going to have your hands full for the next three days. He's got to do something resembling schoolwork during the day. And no video games like we agreed."

"Okay. We'll take Corry to preschool as usual, and I'll stop by school and get his assignments after I drop you off at work."

"And let his teacher know that I'll be taking him to class on Monday. And that I'd like to talk to the class about what it means to be blind – if that's okay with her."

# # # # #

On Monday morning Annie and Corrine left the house at the usual time. Auggie and Christopher left later and took a cab to Christopher's school. When the cab dropped them off in front of the school, Auggie slung his heavily laden messenger bag over his shoulder, unfolded his cane and loosely held it in front of him. He placed his left hand on Christopher's right shoulder. "You know the drill, pal. Announce the doors and steps and go straight to your classroom."

"Can't take you to the classroom yet," Christopher announced with authority. "First we have to go to the office and get you signed in, and me a pass to get back into class."

"Okay, then. Take me to the office so I can get signed in." Auggie smiled and inhaled deeply. The change in his son's demeanor when he knew that he was responsible for his father's safety was remarkable. He took on the task with a seriousness beyond his six years. But he was just six, and Auggie didn't burden him with the task of being his sighted guide very often. But today, today he thought that it would make a good impression on his son's classmates to see them together as a team.

With his son's skilled assistance, Auggie made his way to the school's office, signed in, and received his visitor's pass. A few minutes later they were navigating the nearly empty hallway. The bell had rung while they were in the principal's office.

"We're here," Christopher said. "I'm opening the door and it opens out to the…" He paused to look down at his feet to see the sticker marked 'R' on his right shoe. "To the right."

"Wait," Auggie said. "Are you sure you want me to do this?" Why he should be nervous about meeting with a bunch of six-year-old baffled Auggie, but he could not deny the fact that he was. He just knew that he did not want to embarrass his son in front of his classmates.

"Yes, Daddy. I want you to meet the kids in my class. I want them to know you," the boy said with conviction.

"Okay, then. Let's do it."

Christopher opened the door and led his father into the classroom. Once he'd take a few steps into the room, Auggie stopped and took his hand off his son's shoulder.

"Welcome back, Christopher," the female teacher said. "Welcome to my first grade class Mr. Anderson. I'm Mrs. Wilson. There's an adult appropriate chair just here next to my desk. About ten feet in front of you. Can Christopher take his seat? Or do you need his further assistance?"

"Chris, go take your seat," he directed at his son. "Thank you Mrs. Wilson for letting me come and talk with your class for a few minutes this morning," Auggie said as he swept his cane before him and located the mentioned seat. He did not minimize his movements, but slightly exaggerated them for effect. After he sat down he lowered his messenger bag to the floor.

"Hello, class. As your teacher just said, I'm Mr. Anderson. I am Chris' father. And I am blind. … Can anyone tell me what that means – to be blind?"

A flurry of hands went up.

"Mrs. Wilson, can you help me out here? Of all those hands excitedly waving in the air, who do you think has the best answer to what it means to be blind?"

"Johnny, can you answer Mr. Anderson's question?"

"It means that you can't see and you're helpless," the boy in the back row loudly proclaimed.

"Right on the first half of that answer and so very wrong on the second," Auggie stated firmly. "Yes, I cannot see anymore. No, I am not helpless. Johnny, can you tell me why you think being blind makes me helpless?"

"My grandpa's blind and all he does is sit around and make people do stuff for him."

"Oh, I see," Auggie said softly. "How long has your grandpa been blind? Sometimes when people first lose their sight it's very frightening for them. I know it was for me."

"I'm six and I've never seen him do anything for himself," Johnny stated.

"Ah," Auggie said quietly. "Your grandpa gave up on life when he went blind. It happens sometimes. But I'm here to show that it doesn't have to be that way. Who has a question for me about what it's like to be blind?"

Only a couple of hands went up this time. "Don't everyone shoot your hand up at the same time. Really, there's got to be more than just two of you with questions. Okay, you in the front row," Auggie said pointing at the raised hand to his left.

"Can you see when you dream?" the young girl asked timidly.

"Not any more. I did just after I went blind, but after awhile I stopped seeing in my dreams. Now my dreams are just like my awake time – a lot of sounds and people talking. Next question?"

A few more hands raised this time. "Mrs. Wilson, pick someone for me?"

"Jennifer, what's your question for Mr. Anderson?"

"How did you know that Dawn had her hand up?"

"I heard the rustle of the fabric in her sleeve as she raised her hand. And the sound continued once she'd raised it so I figured she was waving it, too. Most people who can see pickup 70% of their information about the world around them by using their eyes. I get all of my information from my other senses. Can anyone name all five senses?"

"Juan," Mrs. Wilson said.

"There's your eyes"

"Yes, and mine are broken," Auggie said. "What else," he encouraged.

"Your ears," Juan continued.

"Hearing. And mine's just fine. What else?"

Juan paused for a moment and hands went up.

"Let's let Juan see if he can figure it out," Auggie said. He sniffled a little bit.

"Oh, your nose," Juan added quickly.

"Smell. That's right. There's two more Juan. I know you know them," Auggie encouraged again. Auggie licked his lips.

"Your tongue."

"Taste. And one more, now," Auggie said wiggling his fingers.

"Touch," Juan exclaimed with joy.

"That's right, Juan," Auggie complimented. "Touch. There's sight – which I don't have any more so I use my hearing, and touch to gather most of my information. I use smell sometimes, but taste not too often. Who would like to play stump the blind man with me?"

"What do you mean, Mr. Anderson?" Mrs. Wilson asked.

"Who has something in their desk they don't think I'd know what it is without being able to see it?"

Every hand in the room went up. "Mrs. Wilson, have everyone take their item out of their desk or backpack and you choose. If I correctly name what it is, I get to ask that person a question. If I can't they get to ask me one."

"Okay, I've got it now. Everyone do as Mr. Anderson asked and put the item you don't think he'd know on your desk. I'll come around a pick two of you."

There was a great bit of commotion in the classroom then quiet reigned once again. Auggie heard Mrs. Wilson moving through the room. Then he heard small childlike footsteps approach and stop before him.

"What's your name?"

"Keisha," the little girl replied.

"Well, Keisha, let's see what you have for me? Just place it in my hands please," Auggie said holding out his hands. He felt something being placed in his hands. A brief examination of the doll and Auggie knew what it was. But he made a show of examining it for a bit longer. "This is a Barbie doll. And from the clothes she has on and the hair, I'm thinking the Princess Barbie."

"That's right," Keisha said. "But what color is it?"

Auggie shrugged his shoulders. "That I don't know. But if I had to guess I'd say pink."

"How'd ya know that?" the little girl asked with surprise.

"I didn't. I can't feel color. It was just a good guess. Do you have another question for me?"

"Yeah. Why don't you have a dog?"

Auggie tilted his head to one side in momentary confusion. Then he thought he understood the question. "Are you wanting to know why I use a cane instead of a guide dog?"

"Yeah, when my mom and I go downtown on the subway we sometimes see a guy with a dog leading him around. Why don't you have a dog?"

"That's a good question, Keisha. It's a personal choice I made a long time ago. When I first lost my sight I hated the cane, but then I just began to see it as a useful tool that helped me get around independently. I'm pretty good with it now and never felt the need to use a dog guide to help me get around." He handed her back the doll. "Next?"

More small footsteps approaching and then stopping in front of him.

"What's your name?"

"Johnny."

"Hi, Johnny. How's your eye?"

"It's okay. Do you know why Chris slugged me?"

"Sort of. I know what he told me his reason was. Sometimes it's not the words we say, but how we say them that can get us in trouble. I can tell a lot about a person just from the way they say things. I can tell that you're a nice kid who didn't really mean to hurt Chris' feelings when you called me blindy."

"He was telling me all about the things the two of you do together. I knew you were blind so I didn't believe him," Johnny said in a very small voice.

"What do you have for me to figure out?" He held out his hands. A shortish wooden cylinder was placed in them. It baffled him for a few moments. He furrowed his brow in thought. "I'm not sure I'd know what this is even if I could see it. … Is it a bird caller?"

"Yeah. A duck caller. It was my grandpa's."

"What's your question?"

"You knew what it was so you get to ask me a question. Isn't that how the game's played?"

"Yeah. I did ask you my question. What do you want to know about me?"

"Oh." The little boy laughed. "Not about you, but what's in the bag beside you?"

"Before you get into that, can I play too?" Mrs. Wilson asked.

"Sure," Auggie said holding up his right hand toward the teacher. She placed a small square coin into his palm. He manipulated it between his fingers for a few moments then replied, "2500 dinars coin from Kurdistan circa 2006. Been a long time since I've seen one of those. How did you get it?"

"My first husband was a Marine and it was in his personal effects when they were sent to me after he died in Afghanistan. I keep it with me as a touchstone."

"I'm sorry about your husband. Do you have a question for me?"

"How did you lose your sight and how long ago?"

"May 2008 outside of Tikrit, Iraq. I was a Special Forces soldier and we were on a mission and there was an incident – an explosion. It left me blind." He reached down and grabbed his messenger bag. "Inside of here I have some of the tools that make it possible for me to function without a lot of help from other people. This," he said pulling out a Braille volume of an old PCWorld that he kept around for an article in it, "is Braille. Since I can't read print, this is the way I read a lot of stuff that I have to read. I read it with my fingertips. In a lot of ways my fingertips take over the jobs that my eyes would be doing if they still worked."

Many feet approached Auggie and then many hands began touching the book on his lap.

"Chris, do you know how to read those bumps on the page, too?" one of the other boys in the class asked excitedly.

"Yeah, a little bit. I don't read with my fingers like my Daddy does, but I know what a lot of the symbols mean. Daddy's teaching me to write it, too. Mommy knows it almost as good as Daddy does, too," Christopher said with unmistakable pride.

"As much as I like reading books and magazines this way," he said touching the braille volume on his lap, "they are so big and take up so much room, that it's hard to keep space enough for them. I can keep so much more reading material on this," he said pulling out his BrailleNote. "It's like an itty bitty computer, but it does so much more for me. It connects wirelessly to my phone so I can send messages to Chris' mother during the day."

"What kind of messages do you send her?" a little girl's voice asked timidly.

"Usually that I've been delayed at work and won't be home for supper," Auggie said. "Sometimes I'll remember something that we need from the grocery store and message that so we don't forget it. Stuff like that. … I also keep my calendar on here so that I know where I'm supposed to be and when I'm supposed to be there. … I make notes to myself, too. Here, I'll show you how I do that. … Someone give me a name or something that I can write down."

"Write my dog's name: Snoopy." One little boy said eagerly.

Auggie placed his hands on the six keys and began to push combinations of them down. When he finished he punched the button that made what he'd just written display on the braille readout.

He turned the device around so the kids seated at his feet could see the display. "That's what the word 'Snoopy' looks like in braille. Can everyone see that?"

A chorus of 'yes'.

"Would you like me to read you a story?" Auggie asked putting his BrailleNote back into his bag and pulling out a dog-eared copy of "Skippyjon Jones in Mummy Trouble". It had been one of his niece Chloe's favorites as a child and she'd passed it on to Christopher when he was a toddler.

"YES!" the kids replied in unison. Then Johnny said, "That's a print book. How are you going to read that to us?" His voice was skeptical.

Auggie grinned broadly and opened the book to the first page. "Chris' mommy transcribed the book into Braille on special paper and put it onto the pages for me." He held the book so that the children could see the brailled pages and the print word showing through the transparent Braille characters.

For the next few minutes Auggie read about the adventures of the Siamese cat who thought he was a Chihuahua to the enthralled class. He read with enthusiasm using different voices for the different characters in the book. The children laughed and clapped as he read.

When he'd finished reading the book, Auggie put it back into the bag with the rest of his 'show-and-tell' items, and withdrew a small scanner. "If there's something that I need to read, and it's not in Braille and I don't want to have to ask someone to read it to me, I'll use this," he said holding up the device. "Mrs. Wilson, do you have a book that I can use for demonstration?"

He heard the teacher move a few steps, return and place a hard cover book in his hands. Auggie opened the book to a random page and ran the scanner over it. After a moment he pushed a button and a synthetic voice recited the words that had just been scanned. Even Mrs. Wilson was impressed with that piece of technology.

After he'd placed the scanner back in the messenger bag, Auggie pulled out his favorite toy. "Chris, go to the back of the classroom and clap your hands." Auggie easily tossed the ball to his son. "Now turn it on and toss it back to me."

Soon the beeping sound of the ball filled the classroom. Christopher tossed the ball back to his father. Auggie easily caught it. The classroom erupted in applause. Father and son tossed the ball back-and-forth a few more times until a musical tone came from the phone in Auggie's pocket.

"What's that?" several of the children asked.

"That is my signal that I need to pack my toys up and get out of here," Auggie replied. "Since it's not a real good idea for blind people to drive cars, I have a cab scheduled in a few minutes to take me to work. Chris, do you want to keep our special ball with you today?"

"Can I, Daddy?"

"I know you'll take good care of it today. So, yeah. … Does anyone have another question about what it's like to be blind?"

"Can you see anything?" a young female voice asked timidly. "I see black when I close my eyes."

"No. I can't see anything. When I first lost my sight, I saw black, too. Like someone had turned out the lights and I was in a very dark room. But that was just my brain trying to make sense of the lack of signals from my eyes. After a while my brain got lazy and stopped trying to make sense of that and now it's more like nothing's there. Some blind people can tell if they're in a brightly lit place or where a source of light is coming from, but I can't even do that." Auggie added.

"Are you afraid? I'm afraid of the dark sometimes," a boy asked this time.

"When I first learned that I'd never see again, I was very afraid; and very angry. I wasn't much fun to be around back then. But as I got used to being blind and learned to do things again without being able to see, I became less afraid and less angry. Now, being blind is normal for me. Just like being able to see is normal for you. Now? Yeah, sometimes I get nervous; especially when I'm going to meet new people. I never know how a new person is going to react to me not being able to see. Most people are uncomfortable around someone who can't see. Sometimes they'll treat me like I'm a child, but what really makes me mad is when they simply ignore me and talk to the people around me like I'm not there. That's just rude. Do you know what it means to be rude?"

Another chorus of 'yes' met Auggie's ears. He smiled. "Good. It's never okay to be rude to someone who's different than you: their skin's a different color than yours; they behave a bit oddly; they can't see, or hear, or walk. Everyone is a person first, and then whatever else they might be. I'm a lot of things besides blind. I'm a husband, a father, a brother, an uncle, a computer geek, a skier, a world traveler and lots of other stuff. Every person deserves to be treated with respect."

Auggie's phone chimed again. "Okay, kids, I really have to go now. Thanks for letting me come and talk to you."

"Do you need Christopher to help you out to the front of the building?" Mrs. Wilson asked.

"No. Not really," Auggie replied. "I paid attention when Chris and I came in and know where I am in the building. Thank you again for letting me take a few minutes out of your class schedule, Mrs. Wilson." Auggie stood and extended his right hand it the direction of Mrs. Wilson's voice.

She took the offered hand in both of hers. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson, for wanting to come in and talk to the class. I think we all learned something new today."

Auggie shouldered his messenger bag and set his cane in motion as he headed toward the door to a chorus of "Thank you for coming," from the kids.

Later that evening, as he was tucking his son into bed, Auggie asked Christopher, "How do you think things went this morning? Was it a good thing that I came to your class this morning?"

"Oh, yes, Daddy. It was fun having you in class this morning. Everyone thinks you're really neat. They liked how you can play ball with me with our special ball. I brought it home and it's on the shelf by the back door where it belongs."

"Good," Auggie said patting his son's chest. "Do you think Johnny will believe you now when you talk about the things we do together?"

"Oh, yeah. He 'pologized for the way he called you blind last week. I 'pologized for hitting him. We're friends now. He wants to have a play date this weekend over here. Can we Daddy?"

"If I don't have to work on Saturday and it's okay with your Mommy, I'd like to do that."

"Thanks, Daddy. … Daddy?"

"Yes, Chris?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Chris," Auggie said and brushed a kiss on his son's forehead.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what did you think of this glimpse into Auggie's life as a father?<strong>

**The technology that Auggie showed to the kids is available now. You can Google 'BrailleNote' to see what that's all about. It was so hard for me to fathom where technology would be ten or more years down the road for blind people to use that I just mentioned stuff that's currently available to them. Both the BrailleNote and the print-to-speech scanner have been around for a while so I think that something like them would still be around in the future.**

**Please don't get too mad if I don't update this series of stories for a while. I'm struggleing with the story of Annie giving birth to Christopher. I have children, but I never went into labor with them. Both were C-sections. And I don't know of anyone to ask what it's like to have a baby naturally. My daughter's children were C-sections, too.**

**Please, write me a comment and let me know what you think of this story. Or if you have a life experience that you'd like to know how Annie and Auggie might handle. I have a couple of ideas floating around, but don't know when they'll come to fruition. Most are light and fun times, but one is a very heavy story - full of strong emotion.**


	4. Birth Day

We've already met Christopher Austin Anderson. He's my take on how he got here. It's a simple tale.

Mandy58 has tweaked and declared it 'sweet'.

The usual disclaimer: I don't own and am getting no financial gain from my view of an Annie and Auggie together in the future

* * *

><p>"Auggie," Annie said while touching her sleeping husband on the shoulder. "Auggie," she said again a little louder. "Please wake up."<p>

"Mmmff," came the reply.

"August. Wake up. If you want to be present when your child is born you will wake up NOW."

"Mmmff," he replied once again.

Annie shook his shoulders. "Auggie. Please wake up. It's time. I've called a cab. Wake up!"

"What?" Auggie mumbled as he began to rouse from his slumber.

"Get up. It's time to welcome your child into this world."

"Now? Are you sure this time? That's what you said last week."

"NOW! I'm positive that these contractions I'm having are the real deal and not Braxton-Hicks."

With that Auggie swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Annie thrust a pair of jeans and T-shirt into his hands. A few minutes later the pair were on their way out of their apartment and to the nearby hospital. On the way Annie called her sister, Danielle.

After a few rings of Danielle's landline, her husband Michael groggily answered.

"Michael. Annie. Wake Dani and let her know that Auggie and I are on the way to Reston Hospital. The baby's on its way."

Annie heard her sister in the background, and then she was on the line. "Annie? Is it time."

"Yes, Dani. It's time. For real this time. Got to go. We're pulling in to the hospital now."

Less than fifteen minutes later, after the emergency room triage personnel had taken one look at her, Annie was ensconced in a birthing suite. After being checked out, and told that she was already 5 centimeters dilated and beginning to efface, Annie was encouraged to walk the hall for a bit. That was fine with her; there wasn't a position that she found comfortable for very long.

For the next two hours Annie alternately walked the hallway, sat on the birthing ball, or knelt on the large ball with Auggie massaging her lower back. The contractions began to come more frequently and increased in strength and duration. Annie breathed through each contraction as she'd been taught in the natural birth classes that she taken with Auggie. She was uncomfortable during the strong contractions, but not to the point that she couldn't manage the discomfort. She kept reminding herself that her obstetrician had called her pregnancy almost text-book in progression. She was fit – in many ways more so than she had been at the beginning of the pregnancy – and hadn't gained an excessive amount of weight – she was just twenty-two pounds over her pre-pregnancy ideal. She had enjoyed being pregnant, but was now so ready for it to be over.

As she walked past the open door to her room Annie looked in and saw Auggie sitting with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped between his legs. His head was down, as if he were studying the floor, and he was unconsciously wringing his hands; a sure sign that he was nervous. She was about ready to move on down the hallway when a strong contraction gripped her.

An involuntary groan escaped Annie. Auggie's head snapped up and he said, "Annie?"

"It's okay, Auggie. Just another strong contraction. They're coming more frequently now," Annie explained.

"Are you okay?" Danielle said coming up behind Annie.

"Oh, Dani, am I glad that you're here," Annie said grasping her sister's hand. She was very glad that her sister was there to help her through the process of childbirth. As competent as he was in all other aspects of his life, Annie questioned Auggie's ability to be of much help to her in this event.

For the next hour Annie continued to restlessly walk the hall of the maternity floor. It was the middle of the night and she was the only one in active labor in the ward. Much to her obstetrician's dismay, she and Auggie had chosen to let nature take its course rather than schedule a time to be induced by drugs.

Around daybreak, a strong contraction doubled Annie over and caused her to scrunch up her face in pain. She did not cry out, but headed back toward her assigned room with purpose as soon as the contraction had subsided.

As she entered the room, Danielle was sitting in the straight-backed metal chair, and Auggie appeared to be dozing in the recliner. Danielle looked at Annie with a questioning look. Before she could respond another strong contraction once again doubled Annie over. Danielle leaped to her feet and steadied her sister until the contraction passed and then helped her into the hospital bed. When she had Annie situated as comfortable as possible in the bed, Danielle punched the nurses' call button. Soon a disembodied voice came over the intercom: "How may I help you?" it said.

"I want to push," was all that Annie said into the air.

As soon as the nurses' voice had come over the intercom, Auggie was on his feet and cautiously moving toward Annie. "Annie?" he said with a worried expression on his face.

"Right here, Auggie," Annie said, knowing that her voice would guide her husband to her.

"You want to push. What does that mean?" he asked, puzzled, as he found Annie's shoulder.

"It means that my body is ready to expel the baby," Annie explained. "It's okay, Auggie. I'm okay," she added as Auggie tenderly touched her face.

A team of nurses arrived and began to administer to Annie; hooking her up to the IV and attaching the fetal monitor leads to her belly. Auggie was gently pushed aside as they worked.

Head tilted slightly to the right, Auggie listened to the commotion around him that was focused on Annie. "What's going on? Would someone please tell me what's happening?" Auggie pleaded.

The lead nurse finished attaching the last fetal monitor lead and looked at Auggie. She studied him for a few moments, and then she looked toward Danielle and pointed toward her eyes. Danielle nodded slightly. "I'm sorry Mr. Anderson. I didn't realize …"

"That I'm blind," Auggie finished for her.

"Something like that," the nurse responded. "We've just attached monitors to various places on your wife's body so that we can monitor her and the baby during delivery. That way we'll know quickly if either one of them is in trouble and we need to medically intervene. Usually just precautions. We don't expect any problems."

"Thanks," Auggie said softly.

"Have you heard your baby's heartbeat yet?" the nurse asked a moment later.

"Not really," Auggie said moving back toward Annie's bed. "I've laid my head on Annie's belly, but I don't think that's quite what you meant."

"No. Not quite. Would you like to hear it?" she asked taking Auggie's hand. With her other hand she took the fetal stethoscope from around her neck and put the earpieces into her ears.

Auggie nodded, "Yeah. I'd like to hear the baby's heartbeat. Annie's heard it, but I've been so busy with work, that I never had the chance to go with her on any of the pre-natal doctor visits. I wanted to; but it never worked out so I could."

After she placed Auggie's hand on the rail of the bed, the nurse practitioner moved the stethoscope around on Annie's belly. "Here," she said holding the cup firmly on Annie's swollen abdomen with one hand and taking the ear pieces out of her ears and touching them to Auggie's hand with the other, "put this in your ears and you'll hear your baby's heartbeat."

Auggie did as he was told and stuck the earpieces in his ears. A slow grin worked its way across his lips. Emotion registered in his eyes. Annie smiled gently and placed her hand over the one of Auggie's that still rested on the bedrail.

"The baby's heartbeat is strong and even," the nurse practitioner said.

"Thanks," Auggie said a long few moments later as he pulled the earpieces of the stethoscope from his ears. "It's all the more real now."

Annie firmly gripped Auggie's hand as another strong contraction wracked her body and she moaned softly.

"Annie? What's wrong?" Auggie asked with mild concern.

"Nothing's wrong, Auggie. Just a strong contraction. They're coming quicker and getting stronger is all."

"Are you in pain? Do you need anything?"

"I'm uncomfortable while a contraction is happening, but it's nothing I can't handle. Up until the last hundred years or so, women were giving birth without medical help. The only thing I need is this baby to be born and you here by my side." Annie felt a gush of wetness between her legs.

Auggie wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell? Is that normal?"

"I believe my water just broke, so that's amniotic fluid you just smelled."

"Yup," said the lead nurse lifting the sheet that covered Annie's lower half. "I need to check you again," the nurse practitioner said. A few minutes later she said, "You are fully dilated and fully effaced. The baby's head is already in the birth canal. You can start pushing anytime the urge hits you. You're a bit older than most of our first time moms, so I can't tell you how long it's going to take. But the first usually takes longer than a second or third baby. You're obstetrician's in the building and your chosen pediatrician is on call. We've got you covered. I think it's time to have a baby."

For the next little bit, Annie worked with her contractions and pushed. Danielle came and left her side, but Auggie hovered offering encouragement and helping her hold her 'push' position. The anxious look never left his features.

"You're beginning to crown," the obstetrician finally said. "Shouldn't be too much longer now."

"What's that mean?" Auggie asked puzzled. Concerned.

"It means that the top of the baby's head is starting to protrude from the birth canal," one of the attending nurses said. "It's a good thing."

"Okay," Auggie said. "I've never had a baby before. I have no idea what's happening."

"Okay, Annie, give me a good push now," the doctor said firmly. "We have a head. The hard part's done. … Here come the shoulders. One more good push Annie and we should have a baby. … And we have a baby!" the doctor proclaimed. "It's a boy."

"What?" Auggie asked in disbelief. "I have a son?"

"You have a son," the nurse practitioner confirmed as she placed the baby boy on Annie's chest, the umbilical cord still pulsing rhythmically.

"Is he …? Does he have …?' Auggie stammered.

"He's completely healthy with ten perfect fingers and ten perfect little toes," one of the nurses stated reassuringly.

Auggie sighed in relief. He reached out for Annie and brushed against his son lying on his wife's chest.

"Are you going to cut the cord?" the obstetrician asked.

Auggie hesitated a moment. "Yeah. Sure." He felt something being placed in his hands – some sort of scissors he determined after a quick examination. His hands were gently guided into position.

"Just snip," the obstetrician stated.

Auggie closed the scissors firmly. "Good job," someone said. "Do we have a name?"

"Christopher Austin," Annie and Auggie replied in unison.

The staff burst into a soft rendition of 'Happy Birthday." Then the newborn was whisked away to be assessed and cleaned up.

"Are you okay, Annie," Auggie asked, leaning in and kissing his wife.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Tired and a little bit sore, but I'm doing okay," Annie replied softly, touching her husband's face tenderly. "We have a son," she whispered after another few moments. "The son we hoped for."

The sound of a strong newborn cry came from the corner of the room. "Christopher has a set of lungs on him," Auggie said with a touch of pride.

"Yeah, he does," Annie agreed. "Just hope he doesn't exercise them too often at three in the morning."

"Oh, you know he will," Danielle said, returning to the room.

"Isn't that the official lung testing hour?" Auggie chimed in.

"Okay, Mom," the nurse practitioner said as she handed the now swaddled Christopher Austin Anderson to Annie, "It's feeding time. Let's get this hungry little bugger on a breast. Your milk won't come in for a few hours, but we feel it's very important for our newborns to get that first colostrum that you've been making; even if you don't plan on breastfeeding."

"I understand," Annie said baring her left breast and moving her newborn into position. Baby Christopher latched on and began suckling. "But I plan on breastfeeding. We want our baby to get a good start in life."

"What's his stats?" Danielle asked pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. "I've got people to call."

"A healthy six pounds six ounces," the nurse began. "And nineteen and three-quarters inches long. A bit smaller than we expected, but very healthy and scored well on all newborn assessments. He's a keeper."

Danielle moved off to the chair in the corner of the room and began to punch in numbers into her phone. "Mom," she said excitedly, "You're a grandma again. … Yeah, Christopher Austin Anderson came into this world a few minutes ago …" She recited the baby's statistics, told her mother that both mother and child, as well as father, were doing well. With Amanda and Lyle Walker duly informed, Danielle then called her husband and girls.

"Oh," Annie exclaimed a few minutes after she started nursing her son. "I've just had another hard contraction and I want to push again."

"That's normal," the nurse practitioner said coming back over to the side of the bed. "You're now going to deliver the placenta. Once that's done, we'll get you cleaned up, fresh linens, and leave you and daddy to bond with your baby."

Twenty minutes later Annie, Auggie and Christopher were alone in the birthing suite. As soon as the door closed Auggie leaned in to Annie and softly demanded, "Unwrap him. I want to see my son."

Annie lay the baby on her thighs and peeled back the blanket that he was wrapped in. Gently she guided Auggie's hands to his son's head. "Here's his head. He's got a full head of blond curls. His eyes appear to be a soft brown," Annie said softly as her husband's hands gently explored their son's body. From the baby's head Auggie let his fingers gently touch his son's arms and hands, then legs and feet. He thoroughly examined each tiny hand and foot. Once he had examined every part of his baby's body that he could touch, Auggie sighed.

"Did we make a pretty baby?" he finally asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Annie said softly. "We made a pretty baby." Annie noticed a tear forming in the corner of her husband's eye. "Auggie? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Auggie said blinking hard.

Annie touched his hand softly. "Did you wish that you could see?"

"Yeah," Auggie said turning his head to the side. "For a minute I did. I wanted so much to see you, and our son."

"Did you satisfy yourself that Christopher has all the right parts and they're all in the right places?" Annie asked softly, gently changing the subject.

"Mostly," Auggie finally said. A smile finally began to work its way across his lips.

"Well, I can assure you that the baby has boy parts and they're in the right place. You'll be able to see that when you change your first diaper in a few hours."

"Say what?"

"You heard me," Annie stated firmly. "You get diaper duty, too. Just because you're blind doesn't get you out of it. I know you'll work it out."

"Yeah, I'll figure it out," Auggie said resignedly. "I always do."

After pulling the straight-backed metal chair that Danielle had unwillingly vacated earlier up to the side of the bed, Auggie pulled his phone out of his jean's pocket. He punched speed dial number two and waited for the call to be answered.

"Mom," he said when the call was finally picked up on the other end, "you have another grandson. … Yeah, about an hour ago. Mother and child are doing just fine. Annie did it all by herself. No pain meds or anything. … Yeah, she is a remarkable woman. … He's six pounds six ounces and nineteen-and-three-quarters inches long. … Christopher Austin … Christopher we both agreed on quickly. Had a hard time with the middle name. Put all the choices in a hat and pulled one out. It was Austin that we pulled out and I'm glad it was. … Yeah, Mom, he's perfect. Annie tells me he's got a full head of blonde curls and brown eyes. And he's got ten perfect little fingers and ten little toes. … Yeah, Mom, I checked. … Yeah, once we get pictures we'll be sure to send them to you. Mom, the little guy is starting to stir again. I've got to go and be a daddy. Let everyone know for me? … Thanks, Mom. … Love you, too. Bye."

Auggie pushed the end call area on the touch screen and put the phone back in his pocket. That done he honed in on the sound of his son's whimpering and went to pick up his son. "Come to Daddy, little Christopher. Come to Daddy."

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><p>All I have to go on are story stats and the number of 'Story Alerts' this series is getting since the comments are few and far between. I'm only guessing that you're liking my glimpses into the life of a married Annie and Auggie.<p>

Favor me with a comment?


	5. Fireworks

**Here's the next glimpse into Annie and Auggie's married life. Not the one that I've been diligently working on since the last posting, but a quick look at how they spend the Fourth of July. It started out in one place with one ending in mind, but then some of Christopher's friends showed up and hi-jacked the story. It was supposed to be a bit more about Auggie and his daughter, but it is what it is.**

**Mandy58 quickly looked it over this morning for me. Deemed it acceptable. She caught a HUGE booboo for which I owe her big time. Piper is Corrine's dog.**

**The usual disclaimer: I don't own Annie, Auggie or Covert Affairs. I do now own a personalize autographed photo of Christopher Gorham. It's inspirational.**

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><p>"C'mon, Dad," Corrine Anderson said as she exasperatedly tugged on her father's hand. "I'm gonna be late. I'm supposed to be in the band room at school in twenty minutes and it takes ten minutes in good traffic to get there. Here's your cane." She pressed the folded up white cane into her father's hand. "Mom and Chris are already in the car. Jeez, Dad you can finish buttoning your shirt in the car."<p>

August Anderson, father to the first chair clarinetist for Langley High School's concert band, followed his daughter to the waiting car. "Do you have your clarinet?" he asked as he closed the back door behind him. He quickly tested the knob to make sure the door was locked.

"It's in the car already, Chris took it out for me so that I could hustle your butt up," Corrine responded.

"If you haven't noticed, Corry, your father is blind. It takes him longer to do things," Auggie teased his fifteen-year-old daughter. He grinned in anticipation of his daughter's retort.

"Oh, don't play that blind card with me, Dad. I've seen you chase after Piper when he's swiped one of your socks. I know your blind butt can move when you want to."

"No respect. I get no respect around here," Auggie playfully sulked as he settled into the front passenger seat. He began to button his oxford shirt as his wife backed out of the driveway. Even though he knew that he was taking his life in his hands, he did not buckle his seatbelt immediately.

Eight-and-a-half minutes later, Annie Anderson pulled the car to a stop in front of the entrance to Langley High. "Okay, Corry. You're here in plenty of time. Scoot. Got your key to the car so you can put your instrument in the trunk and get a cold drink when you're done?"

"Yes, Mom," Corrine said patting the pocket of her white slacks. "I'm good to go. Got to run," Corrine said as she slammed the car door and took off at a jog to the entrance to the school.

Annie moved the car into one of the nearby parking slots in the rapidly filling parking lot. It was the 4th of July and the day of the annual Mclean town carnival and fireworks display. Mother Nature had blessed the day with good weather – sunny skies and temperatures only in the upper 70's. It was a perfect afternoon for the fun, food and fireworks at dusk. The activities weren't as lavish or the crowds as large as at the festivities on the Mall in nearby Washington, DC, but what the McLean community carnival lacked in crowds they made up for in good fun, community spirit and enthusiasm. For a lot of reasons August Anderson preferred 4th of July celebrations like this rather than the one held in DC. For years they'd done the Mall, but it had grown old after a few years.

As soon as Annie had shut off the engine, Auggie opened his door and got out of the vehicle. He paused for a moment, right hand fingering his belt buckle, considering if he really wanted to tuck in his shirt.

"Leave it out, Dad," Christopher said. "You look okay, and much more relaxed and comfortable, with it un-tucked."

"Okay, then," Auggie said taking his hand off his belt buckle. He reached onto the front floor and scanned the floor mat for his cane. He quickly located it and closed the car door. Unfolding his cane he asked, "Okay, now. Who gets to be the caretaker of the blind guy today?"

"We're going to take care of him in shifts. I drew the first shift," Christopher said as he closed his door. He then brushed his hand against the back of his father's.

"But I won't be far away," Annie said as she joined her son and husband at the rear of their vehicle.

"Where we off to first?" Auggie asked eagerly as he now lightly clutched his son's elbow. "They got the same stuff as last year?"

"Yeah, it looks pretty much like it," Christopher said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He started walking onto the tennis courts where most of the booths were set up.

Midway down the row of booths, Auggie detected an aroma that excited him. "Funnel cakes? They've got funnel cakes this year?"

"Yeah," Christopher said.

"Where's your mom?" Auggie asked conspiratorially.

"She stopped a few booths back to check out some craft stuff."

"Take me over there. To the funnel cake stand."

"No. Mom will have my hide if I do. You know you're not supposed to have that kind of stuff now."

"Fine. Be that way. I'll just take myself over there." He took his hand off his son's arm and set his cane, and nose, in motion. A few paces later he was at the funnel cake stand. "One funnel cake, please?"

"Okay, Mr. Anderson," the tall teenage boy behind the vat of boiling oil said.

"Sean?" Auggie asked, surprised. "How did they talk you into manning this place today?"

"Nobody talked me into it," Sean said as he dipped the funnel cake he'd just made out of the cooking oil. "I volunteered," he added sifting powdered sugar over the hot confection. "Hold out your hand, Mr. Anderson."

Auggie leaned his cane against his chest and held out his right hand. Sean carefully placed the still hot confection on a stack of napkins in Auggie's outstretched hand. "Wait. How much do I owe you?"

"This one's on the house, Mr. Anderson," Sean said firmly. "Enjoy."

"Are you trying to butter up your girlfriend's father?" asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sort of. More of an apology for getting Corry back a little bit late the other night. She won't return my texts so I'm assuming you grounded her and she's mad at me."

"No, we didn't ground her. Wasn't that much past her curfew. Sounds like she's mad at you for some other reason. Thank for the freebie though." Auggie shifted the funnel cake from his right hand into his left and took his cane back up. He took a bite of the warm confection. A pleased grin lifted the corners of his mouth as he chewed. He put his cane in motion and started off to where he'd left his son.

"August, I am very disappointed in you," Annie said as she approached from the side.

"It's once a year. If that. I'm good the rest of the time. Let me enjoy my treat in peace," Auggie said testily. He took another bite of his funnel cake.

"I will if you'll let me have a bite or two, too," Annie said playfully. She wasn't that upset with her husband. It was, after all, just a once a year treat for him.

Auggie offered the funnel cake to Annie who tore off a chunk of it. "Thanks." She took a bite and, like her husband had, an appreciative grin lifted the corners of her mouth.

"Mom," Christopher began, "can we change shifts with Dad? I see some friends of mine heading over to the ball field for the concert. I'd kinda like to sit with them."

Annie quickly scanned the area and it didn't take long for her to see the friends her son wanted to join. The Larsen twins were hard to miss – tall and shapely with long blond hair flowing down their backs – they turned heads wherever they went. They'd been pals of her son since grade school. She turned and looked up at her son who towered a few inches taller than her husband. "It's okay with me," Annie said. "Make sure that it's okay with your father, too."

"Dad? Is it okay with you?" Christopher asked tentatively.

"Bex and Crys?" Auggie asked calling the Larsen girls by their nicknames.

"Yeah," Christopher admitted shyly.

"Go. Have fun with your friends. Just hook back up with us before it's time for the fireworks to start. I want to hear you describe them to me on last time before you leave home for good."

"Thanks, Dad," Christopher said as he touched his father affectionately on the forearm. "I'll be back with you by fireworks time. Describing them for you is the best part of the day. I won't miss that." With that Christopher sprinted off calling to the girls to wait up.

"I thought you wanted to spend some time with your son today," Annie said as soon as her son was out of earshot.

"I did," Auggie began thoughtfully. "He's eighteen now. He'll be going off to Northwestern in a few weeks. He deserves some time with his friends, too. If I'd asked him to stay with me, he would have, but his heart wouldn't have been in it. I didn't want him to be resentful that he had to take care of his blind father when he really wants to be somewhere else. To tell the truth, I was surprised that he even came with us today."

"We have good kids, Auggie. Most of the time I think they still actually like us," Annie said in response.

"Yeah," Auggie said and grinned. "We've managed to raise a couple of good kids." He took one last bite of his funnel cake. After he'd swallowed he wiped his hands on the napkins and wiped his mouth for good measure. "Is there a trash can around here?"

"Yeah," Annie replied brushing her hand against Auggie's. Together they moved off toward the trash can and then off to the ball field to find seats so that they could listen to the concert put on by the high school band and a couple of local choral groups. They weren't professional by any means, but everyone had fun.

A few minutes after he'd settled onto the bleacher bench, Auggie was aware of movement behind him. He didn't really pay attention to it; people were bound to sit behind him and Annie. The gentle fragrance of coconut scented sunscreen gently assailed his senses. It was … familiar.

"Hey, Mr. A," the lilting voice of one of the Larsen girls said. "Thought we'd come and join you and Mrs. A for the concert."

"Hi. Bex? … Or are you Crys?"

"You were right the first time," Rebecca Larsen said, placing a hand on Auggie's shoulder.

"I'm over here," Crystal Larsen said from the other side. She also briefly touched Auggie on the shoulder.

"And I'm the thorn between these two roses," Christopher commented from directly behind his father.

"It's nice to see you girls again," Annie commented.

"It was my idea to come sit with you guys," Rebecca said.

"Thanks," Auggie said. "It's nice that you young people decided to hang out with us old fogies."

"Oh, you're not THAT old," Crystal said.

"And you're pretty okay … as far as old people go," Rebecca added with a nudge to Auggie's shoulder. "Oh, Chris, look at them," she added pointing toward the make-shift stage on the football field and laughing.

"Who? Where?" Auggie said moving his head around as if searching for what Rebecca had mentioned.

Rebecca leaned in and whispered in Auggie's ear. "One of the musical groups is setting up on the stage. They're dressed as Revolutionary characters: Betsy Ross, Ben Franklin, a minuteman, and what could be Paul Revere. Pretty neat. Now the concert band is coming out to take their place. They're all dressed differently in reds, whites, and blues. Very colorful and patriotic. Corry is very stunning in her white slacks and red tank top. She really does favor you, Mr. A."

"Poor thing. Taking after me," Auggie chided.

"Oh, don't be saying that, Mr. A. It's a good thing. She definitely has your eyes … your genes had a role in her nose and mouth, too. In case no one's told you, you have a very beautiful daughter."

Auggie couldn't help but grin with pride. Another girl calling his daughter beautiful was, in his book, the highest of compliments. Especially when it was said without any hint of jealousy.

Behind them, the young people discussed their plans and concerns for their first semesters at college. Rebecca was going to Georgetown, Crystal to George Washington, and, of course, Christopher to Northwestern. Even though they were from the area and could easily commute, the twins were going to live in the dorms. Christopher was going to transition into college life under the watchful eye of his Uncle Austin.

A few minutes past the announced start time, the concert band began to play the Star-Spangled Banner. The assembled crowd and the other performers joined in the singing of the National Anthem. After that the concert band played a few other patriotic themed tunes.

The costumed quartet sang and acted out Yankee Doodle to the amusement of the crowd. Rebecca described the antics to Auggie just like it was the most natural thing in the world to do so. Her vivid and humorous description amused Auggie nearly as much as the described antics on the stage.

During the concert, a vendor with a push cart was quietly hawking hot dogs, bagged chips and canned soda. Auggie bought dinner for the party of five. It was another treat he savored.

The final performance of the concert was one of the local firefighters', with an outstanding baritone voice, heartfelt rendition of 'My Country 'Tis of Thee'.

Much to his surprise, Auggie left the bleacher area on the arm of Rebecca Larsen. After they'd cleared the gate, she led him to a quiet area out of the line of foot traffic.

"Bex? What's on your mind?" He wasn't alarmed, or even mildly concerned that she'd pulled him aside as it were. Since they'd hit their teens she and her sister had often used him as a sounding board when things were bothering them.

"I just wanted to take a minute and give you something. I don't know if I'll get the chance before Chris, Crys and I go our separate ways in a few weeks."

"And what it that?" Auggie asked seriously. Curiously.

"This," she said and leaned in and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "And I wanted to thank you for all that knowing you has taught me."

"You're welcome? But what have I taught you?"

"You've taught me more than you will ever know," she began seriously. "You've taught me empathy, and compassion; that no matter what life goes on; that no matter what the challenges I might face in my own life, there are others with bigger ones, and that those challenges can be conquered with the right attitude and perseverance. You've taught me to judge people not by their appearance, but by their actions and what is in their soul. You've taught me to appreciate the beauty of what's around me – not just the big things, but the little things too: wonderful things like the morning sunlight on a drop of dew on a spider's web, a red and black ladybug on deep green leaf; stuff that others take for granted or even worse, don't notice at all. You've taught me to see the world in so many ways besides with my eyes. You've taught me how truly lucky I am to be able to see, and to not take it for granted. And you've taught me about courage – what it really means to be courageous. Thank you for all of that and for the hundreds of other things that I can't put into words. I may never get to see you again after today, but I will never, ever forget you." Her words were heartfelt and full of an undercurrent of strong emotion.

"You know Bex, it's almost insulting to be called inspirationa, or even the insinuation that I aml. I'm not superhuman," there was an edge of irritation in his tone.

"Inspirational? No. Not that. Just a good teacher on life lessons. I know that you're not superhuman. I've been around when you've struggled, and even failed, at something that would be easy if you could see. Superhuman – no. Just a human who sees the world in ways that the rest of us would be wise to emulate."

Auggie pulled the young woman into a brief fatherly hug. "I … I don't know what to say, Bex. I had no idea …"

"How could you? You have no idea the impact you have on people who met you. And it's greatest on those who are lucky enough to really get to know you like Crys and I have. I don't know if Crys will pull you aside and tell you thanks like I just did, but I know that she feels the same way. Oh, and I know that you're proud of Chris for his academic standing, and his scholarship, but you need to know that he's also a fine human being. He's so not like other boys his age. Having you for a father has made him a better man; one that I am proud to have had as my best friend."

"Bex …"

"Nothing more to say," she said in a lighter tone. "People are going to start talking if we stay here much longer. Mrs. A, Chris and Crys are waiting for us at the top of the hill."

Auggie took the young woman's arm again. He walked with her quietly, contemplating the words she had just uttered. Even though he felt slightly patronized, he understood that Rebecca Larsen had meant to compliment him in the most sincere way.

For the next hour the grouping of two adults and four young adults – Corrine had quietly joined them at some point – wandered the grounds of the high school complex enjoying the evening and each other's companionship. Annie and Auggie both were pleasantly surprised that the older teens decided to continue accompanying them. They all took turns at the various silly games that different community organizations offered in their booths. Even Auggie. He didn't care that he didn't win, or most of the time even hit the target. But he had fun. He did make a good showing at the basketball hoop toss, and he surprised everyone, especially the chief of police, when his pitch, with a slight assist from Christopher tapping the target with his father's cane, solidly connected with the target at the dunking booth and dumped the, up-until-then dry chief of police into the icy water. He certainly didn't need to see to know how flustered the police chief was at getting sent into the water.

As Crystal – or was it Rebecca? – led him hastily from the area he loudly commented, "I'm glad that I don't drive. Don't have to be on guard for the police chief following me around trying to find an infraction so that he could pull me over and issue a citation. The most he can get me on is blind walking."

Those around close enough to hear the comment roared with laughter. Auggie had a feeling that it would be a long time before the police chief would live down getting dunked by a blind guy.

As the light began to fade, for everyone but Auggie that is, Annie and Corrine retrieved the quilts from the car and the assemblage made their way onto the football field to stake out their spot for the fireworks display. Annie, with the assistance of Corrine, Rebecca and Crystal, spread the quilts out side-by-side and slightly over lapping. She guided Auggie to a place in the center of the well-loved quilts.

Annie sat cross-legged on the upper edge of the quilt; Auggie stretched out on his back with his head in Annie's lap. Christopher lay on his father's right side, Corrine to his left. At some point Sean had joined Corrine and sat to her left. Rebecca and Crystal had a sisterly pushing match to see who would get to be closest to Christopher. Rebecca won.

A loud bang echoed across the countryside. Everyone startled, but Auggie just a bit more than the others on the quilt.

"Just the warning aerial cannon, Dad," Christopher said as a quick flicker of fear crossed his father's face. "Are you okay?"

"I know, Chris. Just took me back to another place and another time for a moment. I'm okay," Auggie reassured. He was okay, just confused by the reaction that his body had involuntarily had to the boom. It had been a long time, a very long time indeed, since he'd had that kind of reaction to a loud noise. When the second set of two aerial cannon blasts in rapid succession elicited no strong reaction from him, Auggie shook the earlier reaction off as a fluke of nature.

Five minutes later the first of the actual visual fireworks began. And, as he had been for the last ten years, Christopher began to describe the aerial display to his father.

"That's a white star ball with a red starburst to the right and a blue starburst to the left. … Two more white star balls with red, white and blue starbursts way higher than the balls. … Two red whistlers …"

For the next fifteen minutes Christopher Anderson described the aerial display for his father. Auggie lay, with eyes closed, trying to picture the scene in his mind's eye. Each year, as visual memory had faded for him, it had gotten harder and harder to do. This year it was just so much noise from above and his son's voice saying words that no longer conjured up a visual memory. He sighed.

"Dad?"

Auggie didn't have the heart to tell him. "Pleasant memories," he lied.

"Here's the finale. Everything all at once, covering the sky. Can you see it Dad? It's breathtaking."

Auggie forced a smile. "Yeah, son, I can. Breathtaking."

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><p><strong>Happy 4th of July! I know it's a day early, but the though is sincere.<strong>

**I'm very close to finishing another story. One full of emotion for kkbug. A comment or two on this one might inspire me to finish it and get it up this week. Maybe.**

**I know that things will certainly change in the future and in the 2030's people might not talk like this anymore, or even have community carnivals, or fireworks on the 4th of July, but I don't want to think of a time without them.**

**Comments?**


	6. I Told You So

**Here's another short and sweet story in response to those who have politely asked for it. And I needed something light and quick after the lengthy, heavy story I just finished.**

**This one, warts and all, is all mine. Mandy58 has her hands full witht he long story I just sent to her.**

**Don't own. Wish I did, but sadly don't.**

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><p>After the day's skiing, Auggie and Annie retired to their room in Winter Park Resort to change into après ski clothing. Coming down the hallway with skis and ski poles slung over his shoulder, Auggie almost looked like any other skier. Almost was the operative word. If the somewhat unfocused look in his eyes didn't give him away as being blind, the light grip he had on his female companion's arm did. If that didn't do it, the orange with large black letters bibs that boldly proclaimed BLIND SKIER and BLIND GUIDE in the woman's hands certainly did.<p>

Behind Annie and Auggie, two of Auggie's brothers, Alan and Austin, followed them down the hall going to their own rooms to change out of their cold weather gear. As Annie and Auggie stopped to insert the magnetic key card into the door lock, Alan and Austin passed them in the hall. Alan clapped Auggie on the shoulder.

"See ya down in the dining room in twenty?"

"Yeah," Auggie responded enthusiastically. "I forgot how hungry skiing made me. I'm also ready for a good Irish coffee, too. Need something to warm my insides."

Once inside the room, Auggie stashed his skis and ski poles in the corner and began shrugging out of his parka. Once the parka was off and hung up, Auggie moved to the bed and sat down to pull off his heavy boots and warm overalls.

On the other side of the bed, Annie Anderson was pulling off her boots and ski pants, too. Once she had them off she picked them up and moved across the room to the hangers by the door and hung up her overalls. Then she crossed back and gathered up her husband's and hung them with his parka while he headed into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, after freshening up a bit, Annie and Auggie strolled into the resort's dining room. As they had the previous two nights, the twelve adult Andersons, had taken over a corner of the dining room by shoving a bunch of tables together. The five teenager children in attendance that weekend had a separate table nearby.

Annie expertly guided her husband to the two remaining empty seats at the adult table. She placed his hand on the back of the chair with the mug of Irish coffee on the table in front of it. "Irish coffee at your six," Annie whispered as she slipped into the other seat.

Auggie sat and located the mug. He raised it in mock salute before taking a long sip.

"Well, Augs," Austin began, "did you have a good day today? From the grin that's been plastered on your face all day, I'm guessing so."

"Damn right," Auggie stated firmly. "Best day of them all. Between the faciliy's guide Brendan McCarthy and Annie taking turns guiding me, it was a very good day. Annie has become a very good ski guide in a very short time. I think I might keep her around."

"You'd better. You married her," Alan kidded from across the table. "But if you don't want her, I'll take her. She's really kinda pretty. And sassy, too."

"Alan, you are not my type. I had my fill of men in short and tights when I was growing up. I'm rather fond of former military men with the shaggy look these days," Annie retorted quickly.

"Shot down again, Alan?" his girlfriend Gina kidded. "Looks like you're stuck with me for a while longer."

The good-natured banter continued until the meals came and then continued again as the beer, Irish coffee, and other libations flowed into the late evening. As usual, Auggie seemed to take the brunt of the banter. It hadn't always been that way after he'd been blinded. For the first few years, his brothers seemed to handle him with kid gloves, physically as well as verbally. Then, as he began to make fun of his occasional missteps and bumblings, the gloves came off. Now the no-holds-barred banter of before was in full force. Verbally at least. But the physical torment had ceased, outside of the occasional good-natured brotherly wrestling matches. Even though Auggie thought that it took some great self-restraint, especially from brother Anthony, his brothers had never used his inability to see as a torture tool.

One by one the family groups slowly spit off and went to their rooms beginning with Alfred and Abigail, the matriarch and patriarch of the family. Then Adam's and Anthony's families and that left the youngest of the five Anderson boys and their respective wives or girlfriend. Finally, around eleven, even they had had enough and followed Alan and Gina up to their respective rooms.

Once in their room, Annie flipped on the bathroom light. With the door open that was enough light for her to see to be able to get ready for bed. When they were all snuggled in under the covers, Auggie turned to Annie, "Annie, I think I owe you something."

"What?"

"This," Auggie responded as he rolled partway on top of his wife and took possession of her mouth with uncanny accuracy. His kisses started soft, and steadily grew harder and more possessive. Her lips parted and, as their tongues did a familiar dance, his hand slipped under her silky tee-shirt. His long sensitive fingers found her breasts and reverently caressed each in turn. His wife moaned softly at the ministrations he made to her mouth and body.

For her part Annie willingly offered her body to her husband. She kneaded his shoulders, the only part of his body she could comfortably reach, as she melted like butter under the kisses that had now moved from her mouth to her torso. Together they pulled her silky pajama bottoms off and his soft cotton sleep pants. His kisses moved lower on her torso and soon his tongue had her moaning in anticipation. She whispered his name and encouraged him with her hands on his lean, muscular torso to straddle her. He complied and soon the two were one and nothing else in the world mattered.

A bit later, sexual tension expended, they lay cuddled together basking in the afterglow of their love-making.

Auggie softly began to speak again. "Thanks, but I owe you something else, too."

"And that would be?" Annie quietly asked.

"An apology. Not a full one, but a partial one. Friday, when we first got here, I behaved in a manner that frightened you. For that I'm sorry. But I will not apologize for being angry, just for the way I expressed it. I'm still not thrilled with the way that you got me here, but I **am** glad that you got me here. I enjoyed this weekend in a way that I never thought that I could ever again. Skiing blind isn't half as bad as I thought it would be. In fact it's really rather exhilarating. And satisfying. I wish that I'd done it years ago. I wasted times that I could have had with my family doing something that we always enjoyed. Thank you." There was a slight catch in his voice. "But," he continued, "I meant what I said about getting me to go somewhere under false pretenses. Subterfuge is not acceptable. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I understand. But this time it was the only way I could think of to get you here. And I wanted you to come so badly. I'm not completely sorry that I did it, but I will not do it again. I wasn't sure that this weekend would be as successful as it was. But the smile that was plastered across your face all weekend was so wonderful to see."

"Annie?"

"Yes, Auggie."

"I love you so much."

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><p><strong>To those who asked for this, does it answer your question?<strong>

**Any other comments?**


	7. Getting Piper

After the lack of reviews after my last offering, I'm not exactly sure why I'm offering this one up. I know why, because several have asked for a story of Auggie and his daughter Corrine. Her it is.

Mandy58 has looked it over and found no major errors.

Disclaimer: I don't own Auggie or Annie.

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><p>As he closed the door behind him, Auggie – as his friend's called him – heard the voices of his wife and daughter in the family room. "Corry, it's okay with me, but it's not my decision. You'll have to take it up with your father. But after dinner. He's late and that probably means that he's had a rough day. Give him time to unwind before you hit him with this."<p>

"MOM," Corrine Abigail Anderson huffed, "I'll ask; but I know what he'll say. NO!" His daughter stomped off toward her room with that particular way of petulant twelve-year-olds.

Auggie took the sections of his collapsible white cane apart and wrapped the elastic band around it before he stowed it in its customary spot on the counter by the door. He placed his keys beside it and plugged his phone in to its charger before crossing the kitchen and into the family room.

"What is it that Corry wants now?" he asked as he settled onto the sofa beside his wife.

"A puppy. One of her friend's dogs had a litter a couple of months ago. They're ready to go to permanent homes now. Corry's had her eye on one ever since they were born."

"And why am I just finding out about this now? I haven't heard a word about puppies."

"You're just hearing about it now, because I'm just hearing about it now," Annie explained with the faintest hint of exasperation.

"Oh, okay then. Did you wait on supper for me? Or do I get to eat alone again tonight?"

"We waited. Chris just got in a bit ago from ball practice, too. You have time to change into something more comfortable before we eat if you want," Annie said as she rose from the sofa. Before she left the room she quickly, and tenderly, kissed Auggie on the cheek. "Welcome home."

Almost as soon as Annie had left the room to finish up supper in the kitchen, Auggie rose and ambled down the hall to the master bedroom. He took off his suit coat and carefully hung it on a wooden hanger in his side of the closet. Next he stepped out of his shoes and placed them in their slot on the shoe holder on the back of the closet door before taking off his trousers and neatly folding them on the hanger with the suit jacket. His tie was worked off and hung on the tie rack beside the door; his dress shirt balled up and tossed in the direction of the laundry hamper. Quickly crossing to his bureau he dug in the bottom drawer for a pair of lightweight sweatpants and T-shirt. Finally comfortably dressed, Auggie, in stockinged feet, padded back down the hall to the dining room. He took his seat at the head of the table.

Shortly after he'd sat down, the rest of the family came in from the kitchen with their plates of the beef tips that Annie had put in the slow cooker that morning, buttered noodles and steamed asparagus. "Thanks Chris," Auggie said as his fifteen-year-old son placed a plate before him. "The old man is kinda tired tonight."

"I knew that, Dad," Christopher began, "the minute I saw you coming up the drive after your driver dropped you off."

"Why were you watching me? Trying to judge my mood so you can present another argument for me buying you a car before you even have a driver license?"

Christopher laughed slightly. "No, Dad, not tonight. I've come to accept that it's not going to happen. I was just looking out my window when you came home."

"If you weren't watching for me to come home, why were you looking out the window?"

"Umm, errr, neighbor lady was cleaning out her car again," Christopher shyly stammered.

"'Nuf said," Auggie said and then grinned understandingly at his son. He remembered those days and had heard about his female neighbor's penchant for wearing next to nothing when she worked in the yard.

"Christopher!" Annie exclaimed.

"Mo-um," Christopher retorted, drawing the word out. "She's got to be showing off for me, 'cuz she's sure not showing off for Dad."

"And just what gives you that idea, Christopher, my boy?" Auggie playfully teased; curious to know what his son would say.

"Groan and eye roll, Dad. I might be a bit young for her, but you, Dad, are way too old."

As he inched his hand forward to locate his fork, Auggie laughed heartily. In one statement his son had both acknowledged and dismissed his father's blindness.

For the rest of the meal the conversation at the table mostly centered on the kids and their day at school and practice. Christopher was on the baseball team – first base and clean-up hitter – and Corrine played clarinet in the junior high band. Annie and Auggie's well-honed spy interrogation skills drew the normally reticent teen and preteen into lively, and revealing, conversation. Both were doing well academically, even their advanced placement classes were easy for them. Both children were having relationship problems with peers of the opposite sex. Neither seemed overly concerned with said relationship problem. Christopher was concerned that one of his friends might be tempted to take a path that might lead the friend into serious trouble with the law and thus jeopardize his future. Supportive advice was offered, but no judgments were made, just concerned pleas to be cautious.

After supper was finished, the dishes cleared, and the dishwasher started, Auggie took his daughter to his den. Auggie took up residence in his leather recliner and pushed back into a comfortable position. Corrine sat in the desk chair.

"Corry, you know you're not in trouble?" Auggie asked his daughter gently.

"Yeah, Daddy. If I was in trouble you'd be in the other chair, I'd be on the ottoman and you'd be wearing your serious daddy face," Corrine responded.

"Do you have any idea why you are here with me right now?"

"Nope."

"Didn't your mom suggest that you talk to me about something after supper?"

"Yeah. But I changed my mind about that."

"Why did you change your mind?" Auggie asked with true curiosity. "Did you just shrug your shoulders?"

"Yeah," Corrine said softly.

"Corry, talk to me. What did you want to ask me?"

"How did you know that I wanted to ask you something?"

"I heard your mom telling you that you'd have to ask me when I came in the door tonight. Now, what did you want to ask me?"

After a few moments of hesitation, "I wanted to ask you if I could get a puppy," Corrine said softly.

"Do you know why your mother wanted you to ask me about that?"

"Yeah, 'cuz you're a man and you think you run things around here," Corrine retorted playfully. Then a heartbeat later in a serious voice, "Because you're blind and having a dog in the house could make it harder for you to get around safely."

Auggie sighed. "Yeah. You know how much I hate to deny you kids things because of that," Auggie said quietly.

"Yeah, I know…" Corrine said getting off the chair and heading for the door.

"Corry, come back here," Auggie commanded gently. "I haven't exactly said no. I haven't said yes, yet either, but I want to hear your arguments about why I should say yes. First I want to know how big this puppy will be when it's all grown up."

"Bigger than a cat and smaller than a pony," Corrine replied flippantly.

"Corry. Seriously. How big?"

"It's gonna grow up to be about a foot tall and 25-30 pounds. Sort of medium sized. It's a Welsh Corgi. Did you have dogs when you were growing up?"

"Yeah, there was all most always a dog in the house when I was growing up. But there hasn't been one in my life since I left home to go into the Army. I once thought about getting a guide dog, but decided against that. But this isn't about me. Tell me about the dog you want. Boy or girl dog?"

"The one that I like best is a boy. Not the most outgoing of the litter, but not that shy either. Blonde and white. They're paper trained right now, and working on being fully house broken. They're about two months old."

"Okay. You know dogs can be quite a lot of work and with food and vet bills can be very expensive to maintain. And a puppy is not something that you can just get rid of when the novelty of having a puppy wears off. They have to be fed, and walked, and picked up after as well as played with. Who's going to be the one that has to take care of the puppy?"

"Well, during the day he'll be in a crate in my room. As soon as I get home from school I'll have to take him out for a walk. I know that. I'm willing to do that and clean up after him if I have to. Mom said she'd help, but that it's got to be my responsibility. I know that it's a big commitment. And not just a short-term one either. Sammi's my age and she got her dog when she was two. Rikki's been a part of her life for ten years now and is still going strong. She's the one that just had the puppies."

"I don't know how I'm going to pay for the vet bills and the food, but I'll work it out somehow. I got that money that Grandma Walker left to me last year. I can use some of that I guess."

"Whoa. No, you are not dipping into that money. Not until you're eighteen. That's six years away. That money is for your education. If I decide to let you get the puppy, we'll pick up the vet bills and stuff, but the physical labor has got to be yours. How does your brother feel about you getting the puppy?"

"Chris? He's okay with it. Thinks that having a dog around might be sort of fun. He said that he'd pitch in and help, too."

"Today's what? Wednesday? I'll think about it and let you know Saturday morning. And would it be okay with your friend's family if we, as a family, come over and look at him before I tell you for sure?"

"Oh, Mrs. Harrison already said that we could come by anytime and see the puppies. She really wants to find them homes soon. They've had all their first puppy shots and stuff. The vet's seen them and declared them healthy," Corrine said eagerly with just the faintest glimmer of hope.

"C'mere, Corry. Give the old man a goodnight hug. And then head on off and finish your homework."

Auggie held his arms open and was rewarded by a strong hug and kiss on the cheek from his daughter. As he heard her leave the room, he called after her, "Ask your brother to come in here. He's not in trouble."

A short time later Christopher knocked lightly on the doorframe. "Corry said that you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, come in, have a seat," Auggie said from where he now sat at his personal computer, headphones partially covering his ears.

"Should I close the door?"

"Not necessary. Just have a couple of quick questions for you."

"Like what?" Christopher asked with guarded curiosity.

"You know that your sister wants to bring a puppy into this house?"

"Yeah," he responded in an unguarded tone. "Think it would be fun to have a dog to play with."

"And you expressed willingness to help with said puppy if it comes to live here?"

"Yeah. Of course I did. She might think it's hers, but it would be a family dog. We'd all need to do our part to make sure it's cared for. Even you, Dad."

"Yeah, I'd be the one footing the bills for the food and the vet," Auggie stated evenly.

"What ya looking up?"

"Corry said the dog would be a Welsh Corgi. Not familiar with that breed. Looking it up to see what to expect as far as size and temperament. Now I see that there are two different types of Corgi – Pembroke and Cardigan."

"Oh, the Harrison's have Pembrokes. Neat little dogs."

"Okay, sounds like I'm the only one that's not on board with getting a dog." Auggie sighed in defeat.

"Does that mean …?"

"No. It does not. It just means there will be a lot of people unhappy with me if I say 'no'."

The next day Auggie made sure that he was able to leave his office promptly at 5:00, so that he was able to ride home with his wife. When they got home both of their children were sitting at the dining room table doing their homework. As soon as he'd greeted his children, Auggie told Corrine to call her friend to make sure that it was okay if they came over to see the puppy. Corrine made a happy sound and began punching in numbers on her cell phone.

In the bedroom, while changing out of their suits, Annie asked Auggie, "You're going to let Corry get the puppy?"

A sly grin came to Auggie's face. "Oh course. But I'm going to keep her wondering if I'm going to allow it until Saturday morning. We'll go to the pet supply store then and get all of the necessities, and probably a whole lot of extras, then go and get the little guy."

"When did you decide to allow a puppy into the house?" Annie asked with the faintest hint of surprise.

"About thirty nano-seconds after Corry began to present her argument as to why I should. She's very responsible for a twelve-year-old. I believe that she will carry through with her 'I'll take care of the puppy' plan. That was the swaying factor for me." He pulled a T-shirt over his head and down his torso. "And," he began reflectively, "I like the idea of having a dog around." He stopped mid-tuck as he tucked his shirt into his jeans, "Is the fence around the back yard still completely intact? Will it need repairs before we let the puppy out there unsupervised?"

Annie stopped in front of her husband and put her hands on his chest. "I saw Corry checking it out Sunday afternoon. Wondered what she was doing then, but understood last night when she approached me about getting the puppy. Yes, the fence is puppy ready. So is the landscape," Annie said caressing her husband's chest with her hands. "Umm," she cooed.

"Later," Auggie whispered, gently leaning in and kissing his wife.

Half-an-hour later Auggie was sinking down onto the floor of his daughter's friend's garage. As he sat cross-legged he assessed his surroundings – in the far corner there was scratching of tiny nails on wood, and excited yelping of tiny puppy voices. There was the faintest hint of doggy odors, but they were not at all as prominent as Auggie had anticipated. The sound of doggy nails on wood was replaced by the sound of large and small dog feet on concrete; and then by the inquisitive sniffing of him by an adult dog.

Auggie reached out and patted the short, sturdy dog with the long body. While petting it, his hands were also investigating its head – long pointed nose and large upright ears – and body. As his hand followed the curve of the animal's backside, his hand paused for a moment.

"Pembrokes don't have tails," Mrs. Harrison said with amusement.

"So, I won't get beat in the shins by a rapidly wagging tail then?" Auggie asked lightly.

"Nope," Mrs. Harrison replied.

"Here, Daddy," Corrine said, pressing a wiggling ball of fur to her father's chest. Auggie's hands left the dog at his knee to gently take hold of the smaller animal that was against his chest. A light grin lifted the corners of his mouth as a tiny puppy tongue licked his hand. With one hand supporting the tiny animal's rump and the other its front legs, Auggie held the furball up as if he were looking at it.

"What's your name, little fella?" He almost cooed the question.

"Piper," Corrine said softly. "I thought I'd call him Piper."

"Interesting name. Unique." Auggie said. "So, Piper," he said softly addressing the puppy once again, "how would you like to come live with the Andersons?"

"Daddy? Really?" Corrine asked in an excited high-pitched semi-squeal of delight.

Auggie sighed and closed his eyes. "Yes, Corry. I'm caving in. But," he said holding the puppy out toward his daughter, "not until Saturday. We've got to get the place ready for him. And we need to go to the pet supply store and get dishes, food, toys, and all of that stuff first. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," Corrine gushed and planted a kiss on her father's cheek. "Did you hear that Sammi? My daddy said I can have Piper!"

"Yeah, I did, Corry. I'll put the sold bow on him right now. People are coming to look at the other puppies tomorrow."

"Sold?" Auggie asked with alarm. "Nobody mentioned we were buying a dog. That's a whole other story."

"Oh, no, Mr. Anderson. I'm not selling Corry Piper. Since they were born on her birthday, he's my birthday gift to her. The rest of the puppies are for sale, but not to Corry," Samantha Harrison said, quickly and emphatically. "Corry's been my best friend since kindergarten. Rikki's my dog so technically the puppies are mine to do whatever I want with. Especially since we weren't expecting this litter; we hadn't bred her in a couple of years, but we did take care of a friend's dog for a while and … well … I guess he had his way with Rikki when we weren't home. And now I chose to give one of these surprises to my best friend if her daddy would let her have one."

"Oh, okay then. Glad we got that straight," Auggie said with relief. Truth be known, he would have willingly paid for the puppy.

"It's okay then, Daddy?" Corrine asked in a meek voice.

"Yes, Sweet Pea," Auggie began, using his pet name for his daughter, "it's okay. Let's go home now. You're daddy's getting hungry."

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><p>Well? Did you like it? Reviews feed the muse. She didn't get fed the last time. It got a ton of hits, hough. Maybe it wasn't what you wanted? Let me know what you want and I see if something comes to mind. I've had a couple of suggestions that I am working on. kkbug, I'm still working on the emotional one. Almost there.<p> 


	8. Never the Same Again

**WARNING: Strongly emotional. Get the tissues ready.**

**kkbug asked for an emotional story, so this is sort of for her, even though it had been started before her request. **

**This was a hard story to write; and equally difficult for Mandy58 to beta. But, it was a story that was in me and one that I wanted to explore. It's long - probably three times a normal one for me. Leave yourself plenty of time before you begin to read. **

**I truly appreciate Mandy58's putting aside her own still slightly raw emotions and reviewing this for me. Her input is most appreciated. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Annie or Auggie. I'm not sure that the writers of Covert Affairs would recognize this incarnation of their characters as the ones they so vividly created.**

* * *

><p>Corrine Abigail Anderson bounded onto the bed beside her sleeping father. "Morning, Daddy," she cooed into her father's ear and then planted a big wet kiss on his cheek.<p>

"Corry, what are you doing in here? You know the rule. You're not allowed in this room without permission," Auggie groggily told his almost three-year-old daughter. His left hand searched the pillow beside him for his wife.

"Mommy not here," Corrine announced. "She in kitchen making pancakes. Told me to come get your lazy butt out of bed." The little girl giggled brightly. Her father marveled at his daughter's precocious command of language. She took after her mother in that arena. His daughter was a social butterfly - talking the ear off of anyone who would listen.

"She did not tell you I have a lazy butt," Auggie said indignantly. Corrine was now sitting on his chest. He grabbed her around the waist and began to tickle her and she squealed with laughter.

"If you want Daddy to get out of bed, you're going to have to get off his chest," Auggie explained lightly.

The little girl obediently scooted off her father's chest. As soon as the child's feet hit the floor, she took off running out of the room and down the hall shrieking, "Daddy up! Daddy up!" at the top of her lungs.

Auggie groaned, rolled his eyes and got out of bed. After a quick trip into the bathroom, he padded sleepily down the hallway toward the main living area of the house. The aroma of pancakes and bacon hung in the air as he approached the kitchen. A whirring sound came from the floor to his left. Auggie quickly identified the sound as his six-year-old son's new favorite toy – a remotely controlled jeep.

"Stop, Daddy," his son said as the whirring sound came closer and then stopped. Hurried small footsteps rushed closer then stopped in front of him. The boy picked up his toy car. Auggie reached out and tousled his son's hair. This morning the accuracy of his motion surprised him. The last few attempts to touch his son had been way off target as the boy seemed to move at the speed of light at times.

"Good morning, bright eyes," Annie greeted cheerily from deep within the kitchen.

"Did you send our daughter in to get me out of bed?" Auggie asked with mock anger.

"Couldn't let you oversleep on the day of your son's first T-ball game of the season," Annie replied. "Go sit down at the table. Breakfast's ready. We were just waiting on your lazy butt."

"So, you did call me a lazy butt. I resemble that remark it appears," Auggie said as he headed into the breakfast room. "Ouch!" he exclaimed as he stepped on what felt like a Lego block. "Christopher, I think I've found another Lego."

"Sorry, Daddy. Musta fell out my pocket," the little boy said as he scurried in and retrieved the offending piece of plastic.

"'S okay. At least it's not a frog or a rock. I think your Mommy would object to those in the house," Auggie said with amusement.

"I think so, too. She's such a girl."

"Yeah, she is that. But that's why she's your Mommy. One of these days you won't think that girls have cooties anymore."

Christopher made a derisive chuckle. "If you say so, Daddy."

Auggie took his seat at the breakfast table. Almost as soon as he did, Annie placed a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of him. "I took the liberty of buttering your pancakes for you, but do you want regular or blueberry syrup?"

"Blueberry, of course." The rectangular glass bottle was brushed against the back of his right hand.

"Coffee and juice are in their usual locations," Annie whispered in his ear after quickly brushing a kiss on his cheek. "I may never have mastered the art of blueberry pancakes like your mother's but these are pretty good in their own right."

Auggie smiled appreciatively. Annie was right. None would ever be as good as his mother's, but Annie's were a close second. All they lacked, and would never have, was a big dose of maternal love. The sudden urge to call his mother briefly overcame him. He put the thought to the back of his mind. It was too early to call her now. He'd call her this evening, even though he'd just spoken to her a few days ago.

After eating a hearty breakfast and changing into jeans and a polo shirt, Auggie helped Annie get the children ready and into the car for the short trip to the T-ball field. As usual he was in charge of the tiny bundle of energy that was his son, Christopher. What the lad didn't have in stature he made up for in enthusiasm and pure love of life. He was a big boy in a tiny package. Well, not THAT tiny, but on the low end of average for his age. He was already developing his father's charm and charisma, as well as the self-confidence of a much older child. He was a boy who knew what he wanted and how to quietly go about getting it.

Once at the T-ball field, Christopher Austin Anderson, took charge of his blind father with skill and authority beyond his six years. One the one hand Auggie hated burdening his son with the task of making sure he got to the bleachers without tripping on something or running into someone, but on the other he knew that Annie had her hands full with their daughter. He did carry the heavy quilt that Corrine would play on during much of the game.

Once he'd led his father safely to the bleachers and gone back to help his mother with his sister's things, Christopher scurried off to join the coaches and his teammates.

This was the beginning of his third year with most of the boys on the team. Christopher was now one of a handful of boys who no longer batted with the tee, but from a coach pitched ball. More often than not he solidly connected with the pitched ball and sent it flying. In the field he paid attention and eagerly went after hit balls. He was developing a good throwing arm too, thanks to the many evenings playing catch in the backyard with his father and the special ball that beeped so his father knew where it was at all times. Auggie may have left the actual coaching duties to the dads that could see, but that didn't mean he didn't work with his son to hone the lessons the coaches taught.

When the game began, and as it progressed, Annie, and occasionally one of the other parents, described the proceedings to Auggie. Three years ago, after a few awkward moments in the very beginning, this group of parents had soon learned that Christopher's father was just a regular guy who happened not to be able to see. From that point on, they willingly, and enthusiastically, described the action on the field, and occasionally elsewhere, to their blind friend. Auggie repaid the kindness by cheering on their children with as much enthusiasm as he did his own son.

A few hours after they'd returned from Christopher's morning T-ball game, Annie was in the kid's bathroom helping Corrine off the potty, when the landline phone rang. The caller ID announced 'MOM' several times before Auggie answered the phone call. Across the hall, in his home office, Annie heard her husband of almost ten years speaking.

"Hey, Mom. What's up? … Adam? Why are you calling from the house?" Auggie's voice instantly turned from excited to concerned. The next thing Annie heard from her husband was a screamed "Noooooooo!" and a loud crash the sounded like the office chair careening across the room and hitting the wall.

Quickly pulling up Corrine's underpants and jeans, Annie rushed across the hall. Auggie sat on the floor, the phone on the floor beside him. Annie grabbed the phone and raised it to her ear.

"Adam? What on earth did you just tell Auggie?" Her voice was equal part accusatory and concerned. Sobs now wracked Auggie's body. She stood in shock as Adam's voice explained that Abigail Anderson had collapsed earlier that morning and had died before the ambulance could get her to the hospital. The news hit Annie like a blow to her gut. In a daze, Annie heard herself telling Auggie's oldest brother that they'd be on the next plane to Chicago.

Sinking to the floor beside him, Annie cradled her grief-stricken husband's body in her arms. She didn't speak. There were no words that would console him. Annie simply held him and smoothed his dark curly locks soothingly. They sat there, on the floor, for a few minutes then Annie became aware of two pairs of tiny eyes watching them from the doorway.

"Daddy got a boo-boo?" Corrine asked innocently, eying her father with child-like concern.

"No. Daddy got some news that made him very, very sad," Annie replied. "Come give Daddy a hug. He needs all the hugs we can give him right now. They won't make him less sad, but they'll let him know you care that he is sad."

Corrine came and settled herself in her father's lap. He wrapped his arms around his daughter's tiny body. Christopher sat on the floor beside his father and wrapped both his small arms around his father's larger one. Auggie's sobs quieted a bit, but his tears still fell onto the top of Corrine's head. She snuggled deeper against her father's body.

"I love you, Daddy," the little girl said tilting her head up.

"I love you, too, Sweet Pea," her father said in response. There was a catch in his voice.

"I love you best, Daddy," Christopher said a heartbeat later.

"I love you, too, Little Buddy," Auggie said in a slightly stronger voice.

Moments later Auggie gently shook off the arms wrapped around him and removed his daughter from his lap. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and slowly stood up. "We have travel plans to make," he stated to Annie. "Can you deal with that, Annie? I'm afraid that I'd be none too civil if someone got difficult with me."

"And what makes you so sure that I could be?" Annie asked giving her husband a quick hip bump.

"I think you've got your head about you just a little bit more than I do," Auggie replied wearily. Annie knew that he was right about that.

Annie's first call was to her sister, Danielle, to make sure that the kids could stay with her and Michael for a few days. As she expected, her sister was more than willing to take in her niece and nephew for a few days, or as long as necessary. Danielle also expressed sympathy for Auggie's loss.

Then she went into the office and logged onto Expedia to see what airlines and flight times might be available. That information in her head, Annie then called American Airlines and booked the first available flight out: that was a 6:00 AM flight out of Regan. That was okay, she didn't think they'd get much sleep that night anyway.

The kids were surprisingly quiet. With a concerned mother's curiosity, Annie went in search of her too quiet children and found them in the master bedroom sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed watching their father pack his suitcase.

"C'mon, Corry, let's go pick out what you're going to take when you go to visit Auntie Dani's for a few days." Annie held out her hand to her daughter. Corrine did not budge. "Corry, please come with me," she said more firmly.

The little girl continued to sit and quietly watch her father. "No. Daddy need me," the little girl said firmly.

"It's okay, Corry. Go with Mommy. I'll be okay," Auggie said to his daughter as he moved from bureau to bed with a handful of socks. "Go with Mommy."

The little girl finally slid off the bed and went with her mother.

"I'm still here, Daddy," Christopher said softly.

"I know, Chris," Auggie said. "I appreciate that."

An hour later, when Danielle arrived to gather her niece and nephew, both children were ready with packed suitcases, a couple of toys each, and their special 'lovey'. The children, usually so eager and willing to go visit Aunt Dani for a few days, were reluctant to leave. They clung to their father until he picked each up in turn and carried them to Danielle's car, strapped them into their car seats and kissed them good-bye.

The next twelve hours were but a blur for both Annie and Auggie.

Auggie had been in a shocked daze – simply going through the motions of life – since he received the devastating phone call. Annie had managed to hold it together until the children were packed and Danielle had driven off with them, but, once the children were gone from the house, she allowed herself to begin to grieve also. As soon as the back door closed behind her, Annie sat on the deacon's bench beside it, rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. Sobs soon followed.

"Annie?" Auggie said coming into the room from the hallway. He crossed the room and sat beside her and then put his arm around her shoulders.

"Had to hold back because of kids. Had to be strong for them," she said between sobs. "Be okay in a few minutes."

They sat there, Auggie's arm around Annie's shoulders and the other hand holding her head against his chest, for close to fifteen minutes. Tears flowed from his eyes, too. Finally Annie took a deep breath, slowly let it out and wiped her cheeks with her fingertips. The emotion that she'd been holding back expended, Annie rose and headed into the other part of the house. Auggie followed her slowly; right hand gently trailing the wall of the hall; something that he'd not done for five years – not since the first few days of being in the house.

Once in their bedroom Annie pulled her suitcase from the back of the closet and placed it onto the bed beside Auggie's. Slowly and methodically she began pulling clothes, lingerie, and accessories together from various locations and neatly placing them in the open suitcase. She packed for a week. Looking at the items in Auggie's bag it was apparent that he'd packed for the same amount of time. During this time, Auggie sat forlornly in the rocker-recliner in the corner of the room. His head was tilted back with eyes closed, and hands loosely clasped on his chest. An occasional tear rolled down his cheeks.

Supper that evening was canned tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. The simple meal was barely touched by either Anderson. After the supper dishes were cleared and the dishwasher started, the pair retired to the bedroom and tried to sleep. Tried was the operative word; neither Annie nor Auggie did much more than doze fitfully until it was time to rise and prepare for their 6:00 AM flight.

Checking in, going through security, and traversing the concourse to the boarding gate went surprisingly smoothly; the bit of hassle came in getting from long term parking where Annie parked to the terminal via the shuttle. But it had been far less a hassle than it would have been with the kids in tow. They'd done that and the logistics were truly daunting for Annie. That had been one of the few times when Auggie openly cursed his blindness.

This flight was blessedly free of screaming babies, and unruly toddlers. Early morning flights usually were. Annie gave Auggie the window seat and for most of the flight he kept his head turned toward the window - as if he were looking out of it. The only thing that gave away that he wasn't really watching the clouds fly by was the folded up cane he kept shifting from one hand to the other.

Arriving at O'Hare the luggage hassle was reversed. Getting the checked bags and then catching the shuttle bus to the off-site rental car location did not go smoothly. Annie could tell by the set of Auggie's jaw that his frustration level was rising. When the rental car company could not find their vehicle reservation his level of ire reached the breaking point. The first and only hint that Annie had of that fact was the bellowed, "God Damnit, the incompetence of people these days astounds me. I'm fucking blind and I could do a better job!" as he stepped up to the counter from where he usually waited behind Annie.

"Sir," the cowed female clerk firmly reiterated, "there is no reservation for Anderson."

"I called," Annie said in a tone only slightly calmer than that of her husband. "Here is the confirmation number I wrote down." Annie shoved the corner of the notebook page at the clearly intimidated clerk. Auggie, blind as he might be, was an imposing figure when he pulled himself up to his full six foot height and resorted to his military bearing; he always commanded respect and communicated confidence, but today he demanded it and almost exuded arrogance.

The clerk keyed the confirmation number into the computer. Moments later she sighed and said, "This number brings up a reservation in the name of Sanderson. I'm not sure that I can give you this vehicle."

That was the wrong phrase to utter to Auggie. He leaned over the counter and uncannily spoke into the clerks face, "You can. And you will." His words were firm and clipped.

"What seems to be the problem?" an older male asked while coming in from outside. His eyes quickly assessed the early morning travelers.

"There's a mix-up in these people's reservation and I'm not sure how to proceed," the clerk began before either Annie or Auggie could say anything. She quickly explained the situation.

"Give them the car," the man said after hearing the clerk's explanation. "I'm sorry for the mix-up Mr. Anderson." The man actually seemed contrite.

Less than ten minutes later Annie and Auggie were finally on the way for the half-an-hour trip to Auggie's boyhood home.

Even though it was well before nine in the morning, when Annie pulled onto the street the elder Anderson home was on she could see that the street in front of the house was full of cars. She also could not miss the 'For Sale' sign in front of the house and debated mentioning it to Auggie; she decided that he had enough to deal with already.

"Auggie, it looks as if everyone is at the house already this morning," Annie mentioned as she pulled into the driveway. She was surprised that the drive wasn't full of cars, too.

Auggie leaned his head back against the headrest. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," he said. "I'm not sure I can deal with everyone all at once, but it doesn't look like I've got at choice."

"No. It doesn't," Annie remarked empathetically as she pulled the car to a stop with the trunk even with the back porch steps.

As the pair exited the car, the back door opened and Adam came out onto the porch. "Thought that was you guys," he remarked.

"Yeah, it's us," Auggie responded blandly as he trailed the side of the vehicle to the back of it.

"Annie, pop the trunk and I'll take your things up to the guest room for you," Adam said as he started down the steps.

Auggie cocked his head to one side at that request and offer. "I'm perfectly ca-"

"I know you are, August. But the house is full; it's just easier on everyone if I do this. Please let me."

Auggie sighed resignedly. "Okay. I'll let you take my things upstairs for me."

As Adam lifted the trunk lid and reached for the suitcases, Auggie mounted the back stairs and entered the house. As soon as he was inside the door, his nephew, Cody, gently guided Auggie to a seat at the breakfast table. Cody was now a grown man in his thirties with a family of his own and a thriving psychiatric practice. His wife Lindsay was a no-nonsense litigator.

A hot cup of coffee was pressed into his hand as soon as Auggie was seated. "Here, you look like you could really use this," Olivia said softly. "When did you last eat?"

Auggie shrugged his shoulders. "Sometime yesterday," he stated simply.

"How about you Annie? When did you last eat?"

"Some soup and part of a sandwich yesterday evening," Annie stated slipping into the seat next to her husband.

"I'm going to fix both of you something and I want you to eat. You both look like hell," Olivia stated matter-of-factly as she moved off into the kitchen.

"Where's Dad?" Auggie said getting up from his seat. "How's he doing with all of this?"

"Sit back down Uncle Auggie," Cody said firmly. "He's not here right now. He and Uncle Anthony and Aunt Jessica have gone to the funeral home to finish making the arrangements and take over the dress that Grandma wanted to be buried in. They'd planned everything out a few years ago Dad said."

Auggie slowly sat back down and took a sip of his coffee.

"Dad seems to be taking it all in stride; as usual. He seems to be doing better than any of his children," Olivia commented from the kitchen where she was whisking a bowl of eggs. "He insisted on spending the night here last night. He wanted to stay here alone, but Adam and I insisted on staying with him. I know Dad will be happy to have you and Annie here. He was asking when we thought that you'd get here this morning. All we could tell him was today sometime."

"We got the first available flight," Annie countered.

"We know. With air travel the way it is, we just didn't know when that would be," Olivia said as she poured the egg mixture into a skillet. "We knew that you'd be here as quickly as you could. You're actually here earlier than anyone thought you'd be."

Around noon, Anthony, Jessica, and Alfred returned from their morning's work. When Alfred saw his youngest son, he uttered a small cry of joy and quickly hugged Auggie for a long time. Father and son took great comfort in each other's expression of affection and support.

The rest of the afternoon and evening, Auggie, and Annie, mingled with the other family members, moving from room to room in the house, swapping stories and memories of the family's matriarch – Abigail Elaine Holt Anderson. The house was filled with tears and laughter in equal measure. Although Auggie's grief was palpable and appeared deeper than any of his siblings, he was able to smile and laugh sincerely at the tales and memories told of his beloved mother.

It had been a long day; a tiring day; and after the other family members had quietly slipped away to their own homes during the evening, Annie and Auggie followed Alfred upstairs knowing that this night sleep should come easily. Sleep did come quickly to Annie and Auggie as they snuggled comfortably in each other's arms.

The next morning found Annie trying to find her way around Abigail's kitchen to make them all a bite of breakfast. Even though she had helped Abigail any number of times, this morning it was a frustrating challenge to find the implements she needed. Finally, with a bit of help from her father-in-law, Annie got the three of them fed and the kitchen cleaned up with a big assist from Auggie. They puttered around part of the morning and around noon one of the neighbors brought over a platter of homemade chicken salad sandwiches on fresh baked bread. The elderly woman would not leave until everyone in the house had eaten at least half a sandwich. The sandwiches were quite tasty and both men ate a whole one, but Annie had a hard time with a half.

After the light lunch, the Andersons changed out of their casual clothes into more mourning appropriate attire. Annie put on a pair of black slacks with a dark grey sweater; Auggie just changed into a pale grey dress shirt with his dark jeans; and Alfred donned a dark sport coat. With Alfred's guidance, Annie drove them to the funeral home on Greenleaf Drive in Wilmette. They arrived in plenty of time for the mid-afternoon beginning of visitation hours.

After she'd parked the car, Annie, with Auggie on her arm, followed Alfred into the side entrance of the one story, red brick building. As she announced the door for Auggie, he seemed to hesitate and pull back just a bit. She didn't blame him, she didn't really want to be doing this either.

Once they were a few paces inside the building, Annie stopped and turned to her husband. "I know that the last two days have not been easy for you, and I don't think the next few are going to be any easier. But know this: I will not be more than an arm's length away. And that I've got your back; just like always. This is a new experience for both of us. When we go into the next room, I have no idea how much information about your surroundings you want for me to explain or describe for you." She sighed softly. "Especially where your Mom's concerned." She gently squeezed his hands.

"I … I … I don't know," Auggie stammered. His face was somber.

Annie thought for a few moments. "How about I just tell you what I think I'd want to know if I was you."

A brief grin passed over Auggie's features. "Yeah. That sounds like it might work."

That's what Annie did – briefly described the room's layout, the location and general particulars of his mother's casket, and the number and nature of the floral arrangements. She was about to lead Auggie to one of the sets of easy chairs scattered around the room when he said, "Take me up there. Take me to my Mom."

Annie did just that, stopping an arm's length away from the casket and mid-way of the open half of the top. Auggie reached out and touched his mother's casket, and then took a step forward, his feet bumping into the kneeler placed beside the bier. Slowly, hesitantly at first, then more boldly, he reached out and touched his mother's corpse. Lightly he traced the thin arm to the delicate, beautifully manicured, hands. Carefully, almost reverently, he touched the hands clasped around the rosary. His fingers examined the rosary placed in her hands. A choked sob escaped him. Carefully he lowered himself onto the kneeler and pulled a rosary from his pants' pocket. Through his tears and in a barely audible whisper he began to recite the Rosary for the Dead.

Annie quickly, surreptitiously, glanced around the room and noted that the other family members in the room also seemed to be joining their brother, brother-in-law, or uncle in the prayers. Pulling her own rosary from her pocket, Annie joined her husband on the kneeler and joined in the prayers; even though Auggie's current actions took her totally off-guard. Yes, they had been going to Mass on a more regular basis since the children had been born, but she had never known her husband to say the rosary in all the years that they'd been together.

When he finished saying the rosary, Auggie rose and subtly searched for Annie's arm. They took a few steps away from the bier and coffin. Annie stopped and turned toward her husband. Taking Auggie's face between her hands, Annie wiped the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Auggie sighed. "No. But I'm better. Can we go find somewhere to sit now? My knees are killing me."

"Yeah," Annie replied taking Auggie's hand in hers. "My knees are killing me, too." Together they crossed the room to the only unoccupied seats left.

Alfred and his sons and their respective families had, for the time being, clustered into family groups scattered about the room. Alfred sat in the big chair closest to his wife's casket. To his immediate left Adam and Olivia sat in a pair of pale blue velour wingback chairs. Beside them, subconsciously ordered by birth order, were his children – Cody, Alexis, Meghan – and their spouses – Lindsay, Craig, and Bryan. Anthony and his wife Jessica, with their sons Lucas and Ethan, and Lucas' wife Shondra, had taken up the wingback chairs and sofa in the back of the room. Alan and Gina were on the other sofa in the back corner.

On the other side of the room, directly across from Adam and Olivia, Austin and Jenna, with their daughters Summer and Autumn Grace flanking them, sat in wingback chairs identical to the ones Adam and Olivia occupied. That left a pair of overstuffed chairs in a dark blue leather in the other back corner for Annie and Auggie.

With a former spy's practiced eye, Annie studied every person in the room. Adam, Olivia, and their son, Cody – the only ones with medical backgrounds and therefore accustomed to dealing with death – were resigned. Austin was angry; most of Abigail's grandchildren were confused, uncertain, Annie thought, about what they should be doing, saying, acting. Finally Annie turned her eye on her father-in-law. Alfred sat stoically in his chosen seat eyes focused straight ahead. It was obvious that he had accepted his wife of over fifty years passing. He was tired. No, not tired, weary. Annie could not help but think that they'd be doing this again in the not too distant future.

No sooner had Annie and Auggie sunk down into the seats, than the funeral director came in and announced that there was a fresh urn of coffee in the facility's kitchen and that the ladies auxiliary of Sacred Heart had been by and left several platters of deli sandwiches in the refrigerator for the family. Without waiting for him to suggest it, Annie made a beeline to the kitchen and brought back two mugs of coffee for her and Auggie.

As she returned from the kitchen, Annie saw Cody, sitting on the edge of the chair she'd recently vacated, animatedly talking to Auggie. At first she was concerned over what the two were talking about. The concern vanished when the ends of Auggie's mouth lifted into a big smile. A genuine smile? When he noticed Annie approaching, Cody rose, patted his uncle on the shoulder and began to walk back to his family group.

"Hand," Annie gently commanded as she stopped before her husband. Auggie extended his right hand toward his wife. His hand firmly closed around the ceramic mug placed against the palm of his hand. He brought the mug to his lips, inhaled the coffee's aroma, and took a sip. A brief, involuntary, sigh of pleasure escaped him.

"What were you and Cody talking about?" Annie asked settling back into the chair. She held her mug in both hands.

Auggie seemed to pause for a moment, thinking. "He was in therapist mode. Offering words of consolation."

"Did they help? These words of consolation."

"No. Not really. But I let him think they did," Auggie confided.

It wasn't long after that that the first of the day's visitors arrived. For the next six hours Annie and Auggie alternated between mingling with the 'guests', talking to his brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, and hiding out in the kitchen when the intensity of his emotions threatened to send Auggie into full meltdown mode. The outpouring of love and support for the Andersons was, at times, overwhelming. A steady stream of people came during the afternoon and early evening – some from church, all of the neighbors, many from the country club and an astonishing number of people, young and old, who had been touched by Abigail Anderson in one way or another at one time or another. Most stayed only ten to fifteen minutes, offering words of condolence or a fond memory to each family member. But there were a few, those exceptionally close to Abigail and Alfred, who stayed for an extended length of time and seemed to tend to the unspoken needs of the family - refreshing coffee cups, and quietly ushering away those who seemed to want to overstep the boundaries of good-taste. By the end of the visitation, Annie thought that all of Glencoe and half of Chicago had passed through the mourning room.

In her wanderings about the room, Annie had appreciated all of the floral arrangements and read the attached cards. As expected, she didn't know most of the people or businesses. A few names she vaguely recognized; but there were a couple that had her looking at the card in surprise. There was one with the names of most of Auggie's colleagues from Langley. Not a huge surprise there, but a bit of one – she hadn't known the name of the funeral home, or any of the particulars of dates and times, when she called and told Langley that she and Auggie would be gone for the week and why; but they did work for the CIA after all and it would be a piece of cake for them to gather that information. The equally big arrangement from her colleagues gave her a bit of a start, but, when she thought about it, shouldn't have. The one that had her standing with mouth agape was the large 'Peace Lilly' from Joan and Arthur Campbell. Arthur had retired from the agency a few years ago and Joan more recently, but they hadn't been in touch with, or so Annie thought, anyone in the company in a good long time. The short but very sincere expression of condolence on the card, so very Joan-like, pleased her; and truly touched Auggie when she shared it with him.

By the time Annie and Auggie got back to the house after the visitation/wake, they were both physically and emotionally drained; Auggie far more emotionally so than his wife. The day had been overwhelming to him at times with all of the people he'd interacted with during the day.

After she'd parked the rental in the driveway, Auggie was the first one out of the car and was the first one to reach the back door. As he briefly searched for the doorknob, his hand found the realtor's key box hanging from the doorknob. Annie watched in horror as her husband's body stiffened in what she could only assume to be deep hurt, as he examined the metal box on the door.

Auggie opened the door that had been left trustingly unlocked so that neighbors and parishioners could come and leave any food for the mourning family. "I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered as he quickly felt his way through the mudroom and to the downstairs bathroom. Annie found him, moments later, kneeling before the toilet, unproductively retching.

"Goddamnit," Auggie roared as he sat back.

"Are you okay, son?" Alfred asked from the bathroom doorway.

"No, Dad, I am not!" Auggie bellowed from where he sat on the floor, tiny beads of sweat peppering his forehead. "I've just lost my Mom, and now, it appears, I'm losing the only home I've ever known. Why, Dad? Why?"

"Auggie –" Annie began.

"Shut up, Annie," Auggie snapped.

Taken aback by her husband's words and tone, Annie looked from him to his elderly father.

"I know in your mind that your late mother and I look just like we did back when you were last able to see us. In actuality, we have grown old. And frail. Even with help, this house and yard had become just too much for us to handle. A burden if you will." Alfred paused to gauge the reaction his words were having on his son. There was little change in his son's countenance – the hard, angry look had not softened. "A few months ago we began discussing selling this house and moving into a smaller apartment in the senior complex in Winnetka. Two weeks ago we contacted a realtor and put the house on the market. We've had one offer already, but we didn't accept it and they didn't accept our counter. Now, with Abby gone … with Abby gone I can't bear the thought of being here without her. As soon as you and Annie leave to go back to DC, I'll be moving into an assisted living facility. And that's the way it is son. I'm sorry, but, I'm tired. I'm going up to bed now." Alfred turned and moved off into the darkened house; soon his footsteps as he mounted the stairs sounded through the quiet house.

"Annie?" Auggie finally spoke.

"Yes?"

"What does Dad look like now?"

Annie sank onto the floor in front of her husband. "Tired. Right now he looks weary. He was beginning to look frail when we were out with the kids last fall. Your mom, too. Today … today he looks every bit his age – his hair is snow white, there are deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and the skin on his face sags a bit. His posture is no longer military, he stoops a bit. Auggie, I hate to even think about this, and I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't think he's going to be with us much longer either. It looks like the fight has left him. He may surprise me, and I really hope he does, and bounce back from this with some good TLC. I don't think an assisted living facility is out of line for him."

"Oh." Auggie sighed deeply. Sadly. He, too, now looked even more worn out than he had a few minutes ago. He brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes with the heels of hands. "Sometimes I wish Iraq never happened."

"I know you do, Babe. I'm sure that there's a tiny part of you that wishes that at some point every single day. Your life became infinitely more complicated that day. Ninety-nine point nine per cent of the time you cope beautifully. Then there's those times when, no matter how well-adjusted you are to being blind, being blind has just got to be the absolute pits."

"Yeah. And this is one of them."

Annie gave her husband another few moments to pull himself together then said, "C'mon. Let's go upstairs and go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day, and it might be a bit easier if you're not dead-on-your-feet from lack of sleep."

Wordlessly Auggie got up off the floor and offered a hand to help Annie up. Once they had gone through the motions of getting ready for bed, they crawled into bed. In the darkness of the room, Annie comforted her husband in the intimate way that still-in-love couples had.

In the morning the household was awakened by the sounds of someone moving around in the kitchen and the aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls baking. For a moment Annie thought that Abigail had gotten up early and was baking. Then realization kicked in. Annie quickly threw on her robe and marched downstairs and into the kitchen intent on demanding to know who was playing cruel tricks on the grieving family. The sight of two elderly ladies puttering in the kitchen brought Annie's angry march to a quick halt. The lady in the black slacks and grey knit top looked up from where she was taking a bowl out of the dishwasher.

"You must be August's wife Anne. I'm Jennifer Peterson and this is Cathy Harrison. We were good friends of Abby. We thought that we'd pop in this morning and make sure that at least this part of the family got off to a good start on this horrible day."

"Ah. Thank you. I guess," Annie said. The indignation she'd felt earlier had left her. "I'll go back upstairs and get the rest of the family up. It'll be a good half-an-hour at least before we get back down here."

"Take your time dear. Nothing we're fixing has a timetable attached to it."

Annie turned and went back upstairs. Auggie was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands when she entered the bedroom. Silent sobs convulsed his torso. Annie slipped onto the bed beside her husband and put a hand on his shoulder. Auggie took his hands from his face and turned his head toward Annie.

"It's not Mom in the kitchen is it?"

"No. Just a couple of well-meaning friends of hers. Can you go across the hall and check on your dad? Might be a bit awkward if I did that. I told them that it would be a strong half-hour before we came down for breakfast or brunch, or whatever it is they think we need this morning."

Without a word, or bothering to wipe the tears from his cheeks, Auggie rose and went to check on his father. Across the hall Annie could hear them talking but she couldn't exactly make out their words. Within a few minutes Auggie was back in the guest room.

"He was already up and getting ready. Why don't you go and get your shower while I get my suit and stuff ready."

"Okay," Annie said as she picked up her shower basket. As she left the room she gave Auggie a soft kiss on the cheek. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close for a few moments.

"I'm so glad that I have you in my life," he whispered just before he unwrapped his arms from around his wife.

"And I'm so glad that you're in mine," Annie whispered back. His hand slid down her back and cupped the curve of her buttock for a moment before he finished breaking the embrace.

After a quick shower, Annie dressed in the black dress that she'd brought for this day, while Auggie took his shower. When he returned to the room Auggie slowly, methodically, began to dress in his black suit and light grey dress shirt. Once he'd finished dressing, Annie fixed the lapel of the suit that Auggie had just put on, even thought it didn't really need much attention. She just wanted to touch him without his knowing that she was touching him just for the sake of touching him. Even with his puffy, red-rimmed eyes, he cut a dashing figure in that dark suit. Looking at her reflection in the mirror over the dresser, Annie sighed. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, too. Even if there was a way to make the redness and puffiness to go away, she wasn't sure she'd do that. She was, after all, in mourning. Crying was accepted. Expected. No one who mattered would care that she didn't look her best, she finally decided.

Together they descended the stairway and down the hallway to the breakfast room. Alfred was already seated at the table sipping on a cup of coffee when Annie and Auggie entered the room and took seats at the table. Jennifer brought them both mugs of fresh coffee as soon as they'd settled in their seats.

Mechanically Auggie located his mug and took a sip.

Jennifer and Cathy brought plates of scrambled eggs and sausage patties over and placed one in front of everyone at the table; as well as a plate of the cinnamon rolls that was placed in the middle of the table. Alfred and Annie both took one of the rolls.

"Cinnamon roll, Auggie?" Annie asked in a normal tone of voice.

"NO!" Auggie replied loudly. "God, I can't do this!"

"Do what, August?" Alfred asked.

"This," Auggie replied sweeping his arms in a broad circle. "Act like this is just another breakfast on just another normal day. It's not just another day. In a couple of hours I'm going to be attending the lowering of my mother's body into the cold ground. And just because I can't see it, doesn't mean I don't know it's happening and being affected by it. Dad, how can you be so calm in all of this?"

"Because I simply don't have the energy to be otherwise." Alfred Anderson stated.

Jennifer and Cathy retreated into the family room from where they had been busying themselves with cleaning up the kitchen.

"Death is inevitable, son. It was, as much as you don't want to accept it, simply your mother's time. She'd made peace with God, and was ready to go when he called her to come to Him. So have I and so am I. I understand this is hard on you. You always were the most sensitive one of you boys. Is this just another day? No, it's not. But we, the living, must sustain our bodies so that we can continue to live until it is time for us to go.

"Is today going to be easy for me? No. I'm going to miss your mother more than you will ever know. Will I take it in stride? Yeah. Probably. I've lived a long life and have seen just about everything at least once. I've been to my share of funerals – my parents, Abby's parents, all of my siblings, most of Abby's. Thank God I've never had to bury one of my children, but I've helped a few of my friends bury theirs. I still remember the day that you, out of anger at your new situation, asked if I'd wished you'd died over there in Iraq. Do you remember that, August?"

"Yeah. As a matter of fact I do. We were at dinner at an Olive Garden. It was the first time I'd seen you since I'd been blinded. And the first time that I'd been out in public as a blind man. It was not an easy day for me."

"But you made it through that day, didn't you?"

"Yeah. It was frightening but I did okay."

"You'll make it through today just like you did back then. Do you remember what I said when you asked if I wished you died rather than come home … disabled?"

"Yes, I do, Dad. But that's ancient history. Why are we discussing this now? What has that got to do with Mom being dead and getting buried today?"

"Just reminding you that you got through that day; and you ate even when I don't think you wanted to. And to remind you that I'm so damn glad that I've never had to bury one of my children. Now, pick up your fork and eat what's on your plate."

With a resigned sigh, Auggie picked up his fork and began to eat. About halfway through his meal, Auggie sighed again and said, "Thanks, Dad. I'm going to get through today."

"I know we will. It'll be hard, but we'll all get through today. It's never going to be okay that she's gone but our lives will go on tomorrow. You will go back to DC to your children and family life. And you'll go back to work and do your jobs like you always do. Your lives will go on tomorrow. And the day after that. And the next days, and weeks and months, and yes, years."

Auggie sighed yet again. "Yeah. And every day will get a little bit easier." With that Auggie reached out toward the center of the table. Alfred nudged the plate of rolls under his son's hand. As soon as his hand brushed against a roll, Auggie took it and raised it to his mouth.

A few hours later Annie was guiding Auggie into the foyer of Sacred Heart Catholic Church. There they joined his brothers to await the arrival of the hearse carrying their mother's casket from the funeral home. Abigail Anderson's five sons and oldest grandson were to carry her coffin to the bier at the front of the sanctuary for her funeral mass. Annie, somewhat reluctantly, left Auggie in the capable hands of his brothers; more specifically in the hands of his brother Austin.

After leaving Auggie with Austin, Annie slowly made her way to the front of the church, stopping to accept condolences from various people on her way to one of the pews reserved for the family at the front of the church. Perfunctorily she bent one knee and made the sign of the cross before slipping into the pew beside her sister-in-law Jenna and Jenna's two children.

It wasn't long after Annie had greeted Jenna and her children that the strains of 'Alleluia! Sing to Jesus' came over the church's sound system. The assemblage turned in their seats to see the priest, preceded by two altar servers and one of the parish lectors, coming down the center aisle. Behind him came the somber Anderson men carrying their mother's, and grandmother's, casket draped in the white funeral pall with the stylized brocade cross on it. Auggie was on the right side between Austin and his nephew, Cody, left hand on the casket handle and his ever-present cane firmly clutched in his right hand. Reverently they placed the coffin on the bier in front of the altar, and then took their seats in the right front pew.

Annie couldn't help but notice the wet streaks on her husband's cheeks. She really wished that she could be next to him, to comfort him, but he was stuck two pews in front of her between Austin and Cody. During the funeral mass Annie kept as much of an eye on Auggie as she could. She couldn't see his hands, but from the subtle movements in his shoulders, she guessed that he was idly shifting his cane from hand to hand. That wasn't necessarily a good sign – it could mean that he was blocking out the events going on around him. Or it could mean that he was taking the funeral in stride. She feared the former; prayed for the latter.

It was when Austin guided Auggie back to her after they'd delivered their mother's coffin back to the hearse that Annie knew how Auggie had chosen to take the morning's somber activity. He had, apparently, decided to reign in his emotions and take the day more or less in stride. His casual yet confident walk and the more relaxed look on his face were her tells. The light kiss on her cheek and his whispered, "I'm okay," in her ear when Austin placed his hand on her arm were her confirmation.

As they drove to the Lakeshore Country Club for the funeral luncheon, Auggie told Annie of an early memory of his mother. It was of how she'd alternately hugged him and scolded him after the fire department had finally gotten him out of the top of the tree in the front yard when he was six. Although he'd not felt uncomfortable in the top of the tree, and would have come down when he was good and ready to, the feeling of being protected in his mother's arms that day had never left him. He had spoken in a normally conversational, if slightly far-off and wistful, tone and that gave Annie reason to relax a bit.

Annie and Auggie walked into the dining room of the country club with Cody and Lindsey. "I've got the door Uncle Auggie. Just follow Aunt Annie through. I won't let it hit you in the ass," Cody said grabbing the heavy glass door. He motioned his wife through the door and then followed through it himself.

A few paces inside the dining room, Annie softly said to Auggie, "It's a buffet, honey. How do you want to deal with it?"

"I'm feeling brave today. I'll follow you down the line. Just don't give me anything icky," Auggie said off-handedly. For a variety of reasons, lately Auggie was not a big fan of buffets.

Auggie shoved his cane in his right front trouser pocket and followed Annie down the buffet line where the enticing aromas coming from the offered items had him asking Annie to put a bit of each one on his plate. It was a bit surprising to Auggie, but he was actually hungry.

Carrying his heavily laden plate in his right hand and his left in its customary place on Annie's right elbow, Auggie followed Annie to one of the round tables set up around the room. Soft classical music came from the overhead speakers of the facility's sound system.

"Chair. Twelve O'clock," Annie intoned as she stopped at the table already occupied by Adam and Olivia. Auggie reached out, located the back of the indicated seat, and then reached a bit further and located the table top. He set his plate down, pulled out the chair and sat down. Annie moved behind him and took the seat to his right; the seat beside Olivia.

"Hey, Livie," Annie said, as much to let Auggie know who was at the table as by way of greeting. "I like your dress today, Diane von Furstenberg?"

"Yeah, it is. I see you're wearing her today, too," Livie admired.

"Yeah. Off the clearance rack at Nordstrom last year," Annie admitted self-consciously.

"It's a classic look, and you wear it very well," Livie said kindly.

"And how are you doing today, Auggie?" Adam asked with obvious concern. "Cody expressed some concern about your state of mind yesterday."

"You can just tell Cody," Auggie began with irritation, "to mind his own business! I'm fine."

"Uncle Auggie, it is my business to help people in emotional distress …"

"Cody, I didn't know you were there," Auggie said awkwardly. "But I am not one of your patients …"

"No, but you are my favorite uncle. And your well-being is my concern."

"Please, back off, Cody," Auggie stated firmly, putting his fork down on his plate. "I had my fill of people of your persuasion getting in my head and telling me how I should feel or act way back when I first lost my sight. I don't need, or want, them in my head now. Even if they are my psychiatrist nephew." His arms were now crossed with fists lightly clenched.

Cody put a hand on his uncle's upper arm. "Uncle Auggie, it's okay. Dr. Anderson will stop trying to get inside your head. But will you answer a question from your nephew?" Cody asked softly.

"Are they not one and the same?" Auggie relaxed his arms just a bit. Un-fisted his hands

"I can separate the two of them. Have to do it all the time," Cody replied.

Auggie inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. He kept his head pointing straight forward. "I have an idea what you're going to ask, but go ahead and ask," he said with resignation.

"Are you really doing okay today? You seem to be, but …"

"Cody, that sounded a whole lot like Dr. Anderson," Auggie said unfolding his arms and beginning to relocate his fork.

"I'm sorry Uncle Auggie. Guess in this case it's not so easy to separate the two."

"I'm not one hundred per cent today, but I'd defy you to find someone, anyone of Mom's family or friends who is. Am I better than I was yesterday? Yes. Dad sat me down this morning and told me to buck up. I did," Auggie replied matter-of-factly. He stabbed at something on his plate and brought the fork to his mouth.

"Okay, Uncle Auggie," Cody said. "I'll stop being concerned. But if you want to talk …"

Auggie chewed and swallowed the bite in his mouth. "If I need to talk to someone I'll talk to Annie. She might not have a string of degrees, or even an MD, behind her name, but she's a good listener. And she knows when to shut up."

Cody chuckled lightly. "Okay, Uncle Auggie, I can take a hint," Cody said picking up his own fork and digging in to the scalloped potatoes.

They six people at the table in the near corner of the dining room ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Adam spoke up. "Auggie, do you know of Dad's plans?"

Auggie grimaced at the question. "Yes, I do. He's selling the house and moving into an assisted living facility. He made it pretty clear that his mind was made up on those points. Am I happy about either situation? No. What can I do about it? Absolutely nothing. He's as stubborn as I am. He's not going to budge I'm afraid."

"Okay, as long as you know. I don't want it coming as a surprise to you in a couple of weeks."

"I had enough of a surprise, a not very pleasant one I might add, when I found the realtor's lockbox on the back door last night. We had a discussion about his reasons for doing what he's doing. Do I disagree with them? … I don't know. I'm not around as much as you are Adam, or even Tony or Austin. And it's not like I can easily size up Dad's physical status," he added and pointed to his eyes.

"Auggie, don't …" Adam said.

"Don't what? Tell the truth?" Auggie quickly retorted.

"No," Adam said firmly. "Don't berate yourself because of it. Or for not being around more. We've been around all the time and didn't see it coming either. Their deterioration happened so slowly it just didn't register with any of us. They didn't really discuss it with any of us either, just went ahead and put the house up for sale. All of this has been a shock for us, too, Auggie."

"Oh," Auggie said with understanding.

"Our reaction was pretty much like I'm thinking yours was. But, in having time to look at the whole picture, we agree that it's probably not a bad idea. I know the place that he's going to go to. Very nice. He'll have a small suite of rooms – bedroom, private bath and a sitting room – and the facility will provide three good meals a day in the communal dining room, basic housekeeping of his rooms, basic medical supervision, and a wide variety of activities that he can join in if he wants. Since he's still able to drive, he'll be able to keep his car and go off on his own when he wants to do so."

"So, everyone is okay with his plans?"

Adam exhaled loudly. "Yeah. Pretty much. Hate to see it happen, but understand that it must. It's either this or having him come live with one of us. We'd do it in a heartbeat, but that's not what Dad would want, so the assisted living option is an acceptable compromise."

Auggie took another deep breath and let it out between pursed lips. "Okay, then. I guess I'm onboard, too."

For the rest of the time allotted to the funeral luncheon the conversation was less maudlin and centered more on the lives of the living.

As the mourners left the warm comfort of the country club they found that the day had clouded over and a cold light rain had begun to fall. As she walked to the car, Annie drew her coat more tightly around her and Auggie shivered slightly in just his suit coat while expressing regret that he'd forgotten to bring his top coat.

As they pulled to a stop in the drive of the cemetery Annie noticed that the hearse was just arriving also. The priest was walking toward the gravesite where Olivia and Jenna were already seated on wooden folding chairs under the canopy. As she got out of the car an attendant from the funeral home rushed over and offered Annie an umbrella. Gratefully she took the offered umbrella and popped it open as she waited at the front of the car for Auggie to work his way to her. Together they walked the few yards to the back of the hearse where Adam and Austin already waited. Annie heard Alan and Cody talking behind her. Anthony was getting out of his silver Mercedes parked beside the hearse.

As Annie and Auggie approached the back of the hearse, Austin stepped forward, "I'll take him off your hands now, Annie."

At the sound of his brother's voice, Auggie let go of Annie's arm and extended his hand toward Austin. Annie moved off toward the canopied gravesite as Austin took 'custody' of her husband.

As she took a seat beside Jenna, Annie couldn't help but smile at the short guffaw that came from her husband. Even as the other mourners gathered behind her, and Olivia and Jenna shifted positions on the chairs so that their husbands could sit beside them when they were through being pall bearers one last time, Annie kept watch on Auggie. To the casual observer he seemed relaxed enough, but the slight fisting of his left hand and the grip on the cane in his right told her something different. The slightly hesitant movements as he took his place at the side of his mother's casket, telegraphed volumes to her. Auggie was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

As the coffin approached the gravesite, Annie assessed where Auggie would end up after the coffin was delivered onto the webbing that would ultimately lower it into the ground. She quietly shifted over one seat so that Auggie could just step directly to the chair. And so that she could hold his left hand during the brief service.

The pall bearers bent slightly at the knees as they set the coffin down. With a few softly spoken words of guidance from Annie, Auggie easily located the chair and sat down. Even before she'd had a chance to move her hand toward his, Auggie had located Annie's hand and was interlacing his fingers with hers.

Alfred, who had followed the casket bearing his wife's body from the hearse, worked his way past his sons and their wives to take the seat beside Adam. As soon as Alfred had settled into the seat, the priest rose and moved to the head of the coffin.

"O God, by Your mercy rest is given to the souls of the faithful, be please to bless this grave. Appoint Your holy angels to guard it and set free from all the chains of sin and the soul of her whose body is buried here, so that with all Thy saints she may rejoice in Thee forever. Through Christ our Lord. Amen," the priest intoned as he circled the coffin sprinkling it with holy water.

As the priest spoke Auggie's grip on Annie's hand became firmer. She cast a glance at him. The set of his jaw, the faint glistening in the corners of his eyes, and the ever tightening grip on her hand told Annie that her husband was struggling even harder to keep his emotions in check.

From behind, hands touched Auggie's shoulders and Cody leaned in and whispered, "It's okay, Uncle Auggie. Now's an appropriate time."

Auggie tightly closed his lips and vehemently shook his head. From his right Olivia slipped her arm around his shoulders. Auggie tried to shrug Olivia's arm off, but she resolutely kept it there for the duration of the service. As those around her sniffled, or openly wept, the silence from her husband concerned Annie. It would not be pretty when he allowed his emotion to show; and she knew that he would breakdown sooner or later. She would be there for him when that happened; just as she knew that he'd support her under similar circumstances.

At the end of the brief service, Annie rose and took two of the flowers offered by the funeral director and returned to Auggie. He was standing with hands clasped on top of his now unfolded cane. Annie took one of his hands and pressed the stem of the rose into the palm of it. Auggie took a few steps forward until the back of his fingers brushed against the side of the casket. He trailed his hand upward gently following the curve of the coffin lid. He was the first to lay a flower on the top of his mother's casket. After leaving the token of his love, he turned toward the foot of the casket set his cane in motion and headed off retracing the path he'd taken as pall bearer back toward the hearse. Annie watched him for a few moments. Even his brothers and their families paused in their placing of a flower on the casket. As much as she wanted to follow her husband, she intuitively knew that he needed a little time alone.

Auggie's path was not true to the one that he'd traveled as pall bearer, and a tree root caught his toe as he walked causing him to momentarily lose his balance. When he fell to his knees Annie heard movement behind her and spread her arms out to stop whomever want to rush to her husband. Auggie quickly rose to his feet and, sweeping his cane to the left, located the tree attached to the offending root. Once he'd located the tree he stepped up to it and leaned his forehead against it. Sobs wracked his body.

Alfred pushed past Annie and strode determinedly to his son. When he first touched his son, Auggie tried to shake the hand off. But soon the two men were embracing. Sobs soon wracked both bodies as they stood in the misting rain beneath the barren tree.

# # # # #

Two days later Annie and Auggie were back in DC. The trip back had been somewhat challenging, but not as much as the last leg of the trip out. They'd surprised the kids by picking them up at Danielle's. The sound of his children's excited voices, and the sound of their running feet coming at him, had brought the first genuine smile to Auggie's face that Annie had seen in several days. Auggie the daddy had sat on the floor just inside Danielle's kitchen door and strongly hugged his children. First it had been his son Christopher that he'd held close; then his daughter Corrine. Not only did he hold Corrine close, but he rained kisses on her cheeks and forehead, and then down the side of her neck. Corrine giggled excitedly and tried to wriggle out of her father's embrace.

The weary travelers stayed a few hours at the Brooks home, catching up with what had been happening with their children, and with Danielle and Michael. Shortly after a light dinner, Annie and Auggie gathered their children into the car and took them home. Home to what would now be the new normal.

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><p><strong>Well? What did you think? How many tissues did you need?<strong>

**kkbug was it enough of a diversion**

**I can't promise that this is the last long or strongly emotional story that I'll write here, but it probably will be. Unless, of course, someone suggests something that sends my mind down a maudlin path.**

**I now have an idea for a light, fun piece between Annie and Corrine. Interested?**


	9. A Lazy Day

**This is MUCH lighter than the last one. No fluff though if fluff = Annie and Auggie in bed. I think it's a nice little story though. So did Mandy58.**

**I don't own the 'reel' Annie and Auggie, just the version of them that live in my warped mind.**

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><p>Annie Anderson lay on her back in the hammock in the back yard of her home in MeLean, Virginia. Curled up under her was her daughter's dog, Piper. Annie was relaxing, enjoying a rare day off from her job as lead analyst on the Russian desk in the CIA. She thought lazing away in the sun was the perfect way to spend her day. There was plenty for her to do in the house, but she had been ordered by her husband to take the day off from both work and housework. She knew better than to defy him on this. He might be blind, but he would know if she'd done more than just putter around.<p>

"MOM! Mom, where are you?" the voice of her thirteen-year-old daughter roused Annie from her nap. Piper was scurrying toward the house and the doggy door that would let him reach his mistress.

"I'm out here," Annie yelled to her daughter. The back door opening and the clatter of feet on the stairs reached Annie's ears.

"What are you doing out here?" Corrine Abigail Anderson asked her mother.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Annie retorted playfully. "I'm relaxing in your father's hammock."

"Didn't you go to work today?"

"I started to. Took your dad to his office and he told me to come back home and do nothing all day. So I did."

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything. You know that Corry. Of course there are some things that I might not be able to answer," Annie answered seriously. "I don't have the answers to everything."

"I know, Mom. But I think you can answer this one. How did you meet Daddy?"

"Why do you want to know that, Corry?" Annie asked guardedly.

"Sammi's mom and dad are getting remarried on their twenty-fifth anniversary in a few months. They were making plans and talking about how they met when I was over there this afternoon. They asked me how you and Daddy met. I didn't know."

"Well, let's go in the house and get something cold to drink and I'll tell you. I think you're old enough to hear that story."

Annie carefully got out of the hammock and stretched a bit before starting toward the house. Five minutes later she was sitting on the sofa sipping an iced tea, and studying her daughter sitting in the overstuffed floral print chair opposite her. Corrine was sitting cross-legged in the chair with Piper beside her and she looking at her mother expectantly.

"Well, Cory, first I have to tell you that I don't work for the Smithsonian."

"So? I know that. You work at the CIA with Daddy," Corrine stated matter-of-factly.

"What! How long have you known?" Annie exclaimed.

"I think I've always known. But anyway, how did you meet daddy?"

"Who else knows? Answer me that and then I'll go on and tell you how I met your father."

"Chris knows. I think some of my friends might suspect, but I've never, and will never, tell anyone until you go public like Daddy."

"Okay, then," Annie said, relaxing a bit. "You father was the first person that I met when I started as an official field agent. I'd just been sworn in, and when I came out of Human Resources there he was, sitting on a bench outside of the office waiting to escort me to the office that I'd be working out of."

"Was he blind then?"

"Yes, he was, although, I found out later, not for that long, maybe a year or two. Anyway, he showed me to the office where I was met by the woman that I'd be working for. I think it was within the first five minutes of knowing him that he cracked his first blind joke with me. At first he kind of sent my brain for a loop, but a bit later we bonded a bit over our mutual appreciation of the great jazz musician Charles Mingus."

"Did you start dating right away?"

"Oh, no, Honey, even though it was okay to date your co-workers, even encouraged, we didn't really start dating for a couple of years. But we were friends almost from the first." Annie smiled broadly at the recollection of the first time she and Auggie were in the field together.

"Mom, what's that smile all about?" Corrine asked in a demanding tone.

"Just remembering the first time your Daddy and I worked together," Annie said reflectively.

"Can you tell me about that? From that smile I'll bet it was funny."

Annie thought for a few moments. "Yeah, I think that I can," Annie began. She took a deep breath. "I'd been brought in before I'd finished all of my training, because they needed someone with my language skills, and because I could pass for someone who was paid to go out with men."

"You mean a hooker?" Corrine interrupted.

"How do you know that term, Corry?" Annie asked in astonishment.

Corrine shrugged her shoulders. "Boys talk," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, because I could pass for a high priced escort," Annie admitted. "I was to meet with a man in his hotel room and we were to exchange information. That was all we were to exchange – information. After a bit of misadventure I got the information and went back to the office where it was looked at and determined to be useless. And the man that I'd gotten the information from was dead. The bosses, and even Daddy, all thought that the man and the information were nothing and were done with it; but, even though I was a rookie, I didn't think things added up and I challenged my boss about it. She told me to forget it and didn't take my idea that there was something more going on at all seriously. She was quite rude about it. I was very upset with that and stomped off into the bathroom to vent my frustration. Your Daddy followed me in to the ladies' room, using his being blind as an excuse to be there; insinuated that because he couldn't read the signs he often wandered in to the wrong bathroom. Even though I hadn't known him very long, I knew that he was telling me a story. I knew that he knew exactly where he was and it was no accident that he was there." She paused to take a sip of her iced tea. "We talked for a bit and he calmed me down. He told me that his first months, even though he could see then, were confusing and frustrating for him, too. He reassured me that what I'd done already was good and that I could do the job of being a spy very well. That made me want to prove my point that things weren't over with this man and his seemingly worthless information all the more. I asked your Daddy to help me do that."

"And did he?"

"Yes. Even though, because he was blind, you daddy wasn't supposed to do field work anymore, he eagerly went with me to the morgue to check out the body of the man that was killed getting me the information. The man that we were supposed to be dealing with had tattoos and I wanted to make sure that the dead man didn't have any. While we were in the morgue looking at the body …"

"How did Daddy look at the body? Did he touch it? Ewww," Corrine interrupted again.

"No. Your daddy didn't touch the man's body. He was just standing around being uncomfortable while I lifted up the sheet and checked the body for tattoos. There weren't any. Anyway, while we were there, the FBI came in and caught us. To try to preserve my cover story from the day before, I had to pretend to be an escort again and daddy pretended to be the man I was the escort for. Your daddy was very convincing. So was I and we were eventually let go. By the time we got back to the office we were laughing about it all. Oh, we got chewed out when we got back, but we proved my point and the appropriate actions were taken. By the end of that adventure, the first of many that your daddy and I had, we were fast friends.

"Besides being my handler – the person in the office that I checked in with when I was out being a spy, the one who relayed new information and instructions to me, and who sent in people to get me out of sticky situations when the mission went all tango uniform – your daddy was my friend. And I was his. We talked about stuff, encouraged each other when life had us down, and all the other things that friends do for or with each other. But it was a couple of years before we acknowledged to ourselves that we wanted to try to be more than just friends. That's important, Corry – to be friends with the man you fall in love with first."

"I understand, Mom. Friends first. How did Daddy propose to you? How long after you started dating?

Annie smiled again as she remembered. "For a long time after he lost his sight, your daddy didn't see much of his family. I mean they didn't talk or visit much."

"Why was that? They're so close now it's hard to imagine that they would ever not have been close," Corrine asked. Even Piper lifted his head as if surprised at that.

"Well, I wasn't there then, but daddy just said that they were uncomfortable around him and he was uncomfortable around them."

"Were they mean to him? I mean they can tease you pretty un-mercilessly when they find a weak spot in your character," Corrine asked and grinned knowingly – her Anderson family nickname was 'chatterbox'.

"From what I gather, they were just the opposite. They didn't know how to act around him and he had to constantly prove himself capable. That and all of them together can be pretty overwhelming. Anyway, shortly after we started dating, I learned that the Andersons were having an annual party over Labor Day Weekend. I talked your daddy into going out to Illinois for it."

"You talked Daddy into doing something that he didn't want to do? Wow, you were good!" Corrine exclaimed with great surprise.

"I think there was a part of your daddy that was tired of being away from his family," Annie began again. "I really didn't have to talk that hard. I just told him we were going and he said okay. He told his mom and dad that we were coming and they sent us plane tickets. First class tickets at that. That blew me away, but your daddy just acted like it was no big deal."

"I guess Grandma and Grandpa Anderson had money?"

"Yes, Grandma and Grandpa had money. But they were just like us, Honey. Just regular people. They made me feel right at home when I first met them. Everyone did. But you asked about daddy proposing to me. It was Sunday morning. Grandma Anderson had made the best blueberry pancakes I'd ever eaten. Your dad and I had finished eating when your Uncle Alan came in. Daddy was surprised and got up to greet your Uncle Alan, then went to lean on the counter while I cleared off the table and Uncle Alan sat down. I brought Uncle Alan a cup of coffee and he made a comment that intimidated me a bit so I went over to your Daddy for protection."

"You were afraid of Uncle Alan?"

"Back then, yeah, a little bit. Until I got to really know him," Annie admitted a bit reticently. "Anyway, next thing I knew was Alan paying me a compliment and Daddy was agreeing with him and telling me that he never wanted me to not be in his life. Then he hesitantly said the words that every woman longs to hear. 'Will you marry me?' I thought he was joking at first. Then I looked at his face and knew he was serious. When I said 'yes' he thought that I was joking. It was all very romantic."

"Did he have a ring and everything?"

"Oh, no! He didn't even know he was going to ask me until he did. Grandma Anderson went into her jewelry box and brought down a ring for him to give me. You know that ring with the blue stone surrounded by diamonds that I wear sometimes when Daddy and I get all dressed up to go out?"

"Yeah, it's gorgeous. I've always liked that ring."

"That was my engagement ring. Daddy didn't want to take the ring from his mother, but she, and Grandpa Anderson, insisted. I thought that it was too expensive to just give away like that, but I had to take it or offend everyone. Now I love that ring. One day it will be yours."

"Really?" Corrine exclaimed excitedly.

"Really, Corry. I haven't decided when, but yes, one day it will be yours. But not now," Annie added the last and smiled. She smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm and because she heard a familiar sound on the back porch. "Daddy's home."

Just then the back door opened and a very unfamiliar, "Honey, I'm home," sounded through the house.

"In here, dear," Annie replied. "What's with the greeting tonight?"

"I've always wanted to say that," Auggie said lightly as he began his coming home ritual at the back door. "How is the prettiest girl in my life tonight? Did you have a good day off?" He came into the room and approached the sofa with hands loosely extended in front of him. Reaching the arm of the sofa he extended his hand out a bit and located Annie's shoulder. Then he leaned down and tenderly kissed his wife on the lips.

"I've had a very relaxing day. Spent of good part of in lazing in your hammock until Corry came home. I've just finished telling her about how you proposed to me."

"Ah, Corry," Auggie began as he turned toward the sound of his daughter's breathing, "so now you know just how romantic your dear old Dad is. Did you have a good day today, too?" He asked as he moved past his wife's legs to the other end of the sofa.

"I had a good day at school. Besides telling me the very romantic tale of how you proposed to her, Mom told me about meeting you for the first time and how you two were just friends for a long time before you even started to date. Took you a long time to figure out she was the one for you, huh?"

"Oh, it didn't take that long for me to know that. Just took me a long time to act on it," Auggie stated soberly. "I was afraid that she wouldn't want me that way."

"You were afraid?" Corrine asked incredulously. "I've never known you to be afraid of anything."

"Yeah, of that I was afraid. I never had a problem finding women to date, women always seemed to be drawn to me, but when it came to your mother, I was afraid that she wouldn't want to commit her life to being with … a blind man." He admitted that fear as if having it was something as natural as breathing.

"Daddy! Why would she not want to be with you?"

Auggie shrugged his shoulders. "There was that tiny part of me that didn't feel worthy of her, although I projected confidence it all others areas of my life. I dated – casually. Your mother dated – a bit more seriously. But your Mom was the first woman that I'd met in a long time that I wanted a serious relationship with. And for the first time in my life I didn't know what to do."

"And I didn't either," Annie interjected. "We had such a great friendship that I was afraid that anything more would ruin that. And I was feeling sort of unworthy of the awesome August Anderson."

"I can't picture the two of you with anyone other than each other. You are so right for each other," Corrine exclaimed while looking quizzically from one parent to the other.

"But when we did acknowledge the depth of our feeling for each other, it was just so … natural. An extension of a really good friendship," Auggie admitted. "That's important, Corry – being friends first."

"Mom already said that. Friend's first," Corrine said with the ingrained irritation of a thirteen-year-old.

"She did, did she?" Auggie commented and then smiled broadly. "She's a very smart woman, too. Did she also tell you that I'm taking both my favorite girls out to dinner tonight?"

"No, she didn't," Annie started, "but only because she didn't know about that."

"What? You didn't get the memo? Auggie said and grinned teasingly.

"Nope. No memo. Where are you taking us? And what about Chris?"

"I haven't decided where yet. And Chris is eating with his buddy Harrison and then they're going to hang out with the Larsen girls after. And before you get all bent out of shape, Annie, he called me, a little concerned when he couldn't get in touch with you, and I told him he could have his evening. He said that he'd probably be in well before curfew. Now the important question – where do you want to go for dinner?"

The Anderson women looked at each other and, in unison, shouted Geno Carter's!

"Okay then, Geno's it is. Let me go change out of this suit and tie, and we'll head over there. There's only one other place that I'd rather spend the evening with the two prettiest women on earth. And I'm too hungry for that place." Smiling broadly, Auggie rose and headed off to the back of the house.

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><p><strong> I no longer expect comments. But I do get a thrill when someone takes a minute to write one. <strong>


	10. Chris' Crisis

**A chapter ago I said that I'd not do another emotional or long story. I guess I stated a falsehood. This is turning into one of my epic stories and will be a multi-parter. It's the kind of story that I like to write (and to read). I know going in that it will not get many reviews/comments since it is not what it seems that most of you want to read. I wrote it for me and a few others. If the rest of you like it - so be it. If not - so be that, too. (kkbug it's got emotion. Hope you like it.) I can write fluff, I have written fluff, I will write fluff again in the future. I like fluffy stories. Just not a steady diet of them.**

**A number of people have influenced this tale: my new friend Carrie from the UK (who does not dwell here in the CA fandom); Sue (who knows what role she played in sparking part of this) and Mandy58 of course.**

**I own nothing of Covert Affairs.**

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><p>The sound of pounding roused Auggie from his slumber. It took a minute or so for his sleep fogged brain to discern what the sound was and where it came from – someone was knocking loudly on the front door. '<em>The front door'<em>, he thought as he stumbled sleepily down the hall. '_Nobody uses the front door_'.

"I'm coming," he yelled as he turned the corner from the hallway into the living room and the pounding got louder. "Who is it?" he asked as he located and undid the deadbolt lock on the door.

"Virginia State Police," came the reply. "Would you open the door, please?"

"Sure. Just a minute," Auggie said nervously as he twisted the thumb latch in the middle of the knob. "What's this all about?" he asked as he opened the door and stood there in nothing but his sleep pants.

"Does a Christopher Austin Anderson live here?"

"Yeah. Sort of. He's my son, but he's supposed to be in Illinois at college," Auggie replied with uncertainty. "Why do you want to know?" Auggie was fully awake now.

"There was an accident out on I-495 near the George Washington Parkway interchange involving a Mercedes with Illinois plates registered to an Austin James Anderson and driven by a young man with Christopher Austin Anderson's wallet and Virginia driver's license in it in his pocket."

"Austin is my brother, Christopher is my son. Is he …"

"No. He's not dead that we know of, but he is reportedly seriously hurt. We were sent to notify anyone living at this address that he's at Georgetown University Hospital."

Auggie sighed deeply, fighting back the need to cry. "If you haven't figured it out already, I'm blind. My wife and daughter are out of town. Could you give me a couple of minutes to get some clothes on and give me a ride to the hospital? I'm not going to be able to get a driver or cab to take me there for several hours."

"Yeah, I guess we can do that."

Auggie fumbled with the light switches beside the doorframe. "Come in and have a seat while I quickly get some clothes on. Hopefully that gave you enough light," he said before rushing down the hall as fast as he could, nearly tripping over Piper in the process. The small dog yelped in surprise. In the bedroom he pulled off his sleep pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and pulled on the pair of jean shorts lying on the floor beside the bed and then pulled the first shirt his hands touched in the bureau drawer over his head. After slipping his feet into a pair of thong sandals he made a quick detour to the back door to grab his cane, cell phone and keys from their place on the counter before returning to the living room and the waiting VSP officer.

Once out the door, Auggie took the officer's arm. With only a little bit of awkwardness the officer got Auggie to the patrol car and even placed his hand on the door handle.

"I'm sorry Mr. Anderson," the youngish officer began, "but I'm going to have to put you in the back. I just hope any nosey neighbors don't think you've been arrested."

"Oh, they'd know better," Auggie admitted. "Or at least I hope they would."

"Can I ask you something?" the officer asked as he put the vehicle in gear and began to back out of the drive.

"Yeah. I guess. Do I need a lawyer?"

"Lawyer? No, of course not. What I wanted to know was how you knew I was a cop if you couldn't see the uniform? I could have been anyone."

"Trust. I just had to trust that you weren't someone playing a sick joke on me, or there to bash in the head of whomever answered the door. Then I heard the crackle of the radio on your shoulder. Then I was sure. This accident … was my boy at fault?"

"Preliminary observations are that he was not. Every indication is that the other driver was going north in the southbound lanes. There was the strong smell of alcohol on his breath, but we won't know how impaired he was until we get the tox screen back."

Auggie sighed in frustration. "That information … doesn't make anything easier. Honestly, how badly hurt is my son?"

"I couldn't say, sir. All I know is that they called for the MedStar helicopter. They don't do that for DOA, or for minor stuff."

"And the other guy?"

"You don't want to know. All I can say that your son was very lucky. We're just crossing the Potomac on Chain Bridge Road. We'll be at the hospital soon."

For the rest of the short trip to the hospital Auggie rode in silence. He prepared himself for the worst; prayed for the best; and knew it would be somewhere in-between.

Once they reached the Emergency Room entrance at Georgetown University Hospital, the officer parked the squad and took Auggie into the ER. There he pulled one of the ER nurses aside. "Where's the young man from the crash out on 495? I've got his father here."

"I think they took him to surgery. I'll check," the woman said and hurried off. She was back in a few minutes. "Christopher Anderson? Is that who you're looking for?"

"Yeah. Christopher is my son," Auggie said nervously. "Can you take me to him?" He raised his right hand holding his folded up cane so that he knew she saw it.

"The young Mr. Anderson is in surgery. I'll get an orderly to take you up to that waiting room." And she was gone again.

A few minutes later an orderly approached. "Mr. Anderson, I'll take you up to the surgery waiting room," he said as he took Auggie's arm. The VSP officer touched Auggie on the arm and bid him 'Good Luck'.

"It works better if I take yours," Auggie said as he broke the grip the man had on his arm and moved his hand so that he was gripping the other man's elbow. He followed the man – as if he really had a choice in that – through the maze of corridors, up the elevator, and through another maze of hallways. Even if he'd been paying close attention he doubted that he could retrace his steps.

Eventually the man stopped walking. "Here's the surgical waiting area. There's no one here but you."

"Do you mind showing me to a seat?" Auggie asked as the orderly started to walk away.

"There's a sofa just to your right. Just scoot over a couple of inches and you'll find it."

Auggie reached to his right and did find the arm to a piece of furniture. "Ah, okay. Sorry."

"S'all right," the man said as he headed off the way they'd come.

After a quick orientation of what was indeed a sofa, Auggie sank onto it. He leaned forward resting his forearms on his thighs. He sat there thinking about everyone he needed to contact: Annie of course. But it was the middle of the night and he really didn't want to call her until he had something to report more than Christopher had been in an accident and was in surgery. Then he should call Austin.

And Langley. He needed to call the office and tell them that he needed a few days – or would it be weeks?—off of work. At that though he sighed deeply. There was so much going on that was coming to a head. He could stall and put some of it off for a day or two … The phone in his pocket rang. He fished it out and answered it.

"Yeah?"

"Auggie, where are you?" the voice was that of the Director of National Intelligence – his boss.

"I'm at the hospital in a surgical waiting room," Auggie replied automatically.

"How is Christopher doing? Or do you not know anything yet?" the DNI asked gently.

"I just got here. All I know is that he was hit head-on by a wrong way driver on the 495; was air-lifted here to Georgetown University Hospital, and is in surgery. What kind of surgery I don't know," Auggie said wearily. He didn't even have to wonder how the DNI knew what had happened. He knew how he knew. One less call to make.

"Take a few days off. Keep us posted as soon as you can. I'd like to give you more than a few days, but …"

"I know. I understand," Auggie said with resignation.

"Have you talked to your wife yet?"

"No. Wanted to wait until I could tell her the extent of Chris' injuries and a prognosis. Right now, I don't have either."

"I can suppress this information for a few hours. I hope that's enough time for you to get in touch with Annie. I doubt that I can keep it off the local airwaves though."

"As long as the media isn't camping out in the hospital lobby and hounding me. Or Annie when she gets here. … Chip, I've got to go. Thanks for calling." Auggie ended the call. He thought he'd heard someone come into the room, but apparently he was mistaken.

Auggie went back to waiting. He hated waiting and waiting rooms as a general rule. This morning it was pure agony. He tried to use the time by sorting out what on his desk at work could be delegated to someone else, what simply had to have his touch or attention, and what he could simply set aside until he had the time and concentration to deal with effectively. That's what he tried to do, but his mind kept diverting to thoughts of his son: his birth, his first day of school, memorable T-ball and later baseball games, his son's graduation as valedictorian of his class not that long ago. And he could not help but wonder what Christopher was doing on that section of road when he was supposed to be at school in Illinois.

An exasperated sigh escaped Auggie as he checked his watch. It was approaching 6:00 AM and time that he needed to be calling Annie. He'd been here a little over three hours and he still had nothing to tell her. Now he was irritated, too. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. He picked his cane up from the floor between his feet, stood up and unfolded his cane. Sweeping his cane in a wide arc on the floor he oriented himself to the room. Turning to his left he moved forward until the echoes of his cane indicated that he was in a long narrow hallway. After listening intently for a few moments, he turned to his left and slowly, but confidently, walked down the hallway, left hand gently trailing the wall. He stopped to investigate every opening in the wall. Three doors down he found a door that wasn't locked. Behind it the faint sounds of a heart monitor and other surgical suite sounds. He pushed the door open and took a few steps inside.

"Sir, you're not supposed to be in here," the brusque female said.

"Didn't see the sign," Auggie stated lifting his cane a bit. "I'm looking for information on Christopher Anderson. I've been in the waiting room for hours without a single word of him."

"And just who are you?"

"August Anderson. His father. If you'll tell me where he is and what's happening with him I'll leave. But not one minute before." Unconsciously he drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders imposingly.

"I think that's who they're just finishing up with. Wait here while I make sure," she said moving off to the right.

In front of him Auggie heard swinging doors opening and closing with a gently flapping.

"What's going on here?" a gruff authoritarian male voice said. "You're not supposed to be in this area. Medical personnel only."

"He's looking for word of his son – Christopher Anderson. The guy you just finished with," the female from before said.

"Oh. But still. Not supposed to be here," the still gruff male voice said over the sound of removal of surgical gloves. The faint smell of surgical scrub and blood reached Auggie. His son's blood? "If you'll come with me, I'll give you what information I can."

"Auggie Anderson," Auggie said, shifting his cane to his left hand and extending his right. "And you are?"

"Dr. Greg Peterson. I'm an orthopedic surgeon, but still pretty well versed in the other injuries the young man sustained," Dr. Peterson said as he firmly shook Auggie's hand. "I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson …"

"Sorry about what?" Auggie interrupted while a feeling of dread came over him.

A comforting hand touched Auggie's arm. "Sorry that we didn't know that you were here for him. I would have come out and explained things to you. Come with me and I'll let you know what's happened medically and what we hope are your son's chances."

Auggie took the surgeon's arm and followed him to a small room across the hall. His feeling of dread had abated a bit, but had not completely left him. There was an edginess to the man's voice that hid something. The surgeon moved two chairs around in the room. "There's a seat there just to your right," he said. Auggie swept his arm slightly and found the back of the chair and then sat down in the arm chair. The doctor sat facing Auggie without the usual barrier of a desk between them. To Auggie it felt as if they were almost knee to knee.

"Despite the airbags, your son took a beating in that car he was in. From what I heard it was a violent head-on wreck that the other guy did not survive. Your son is very lucky just to be alive."

Auggie swallowed hard. 'Lucky to be alive' usually meat something serious, possible life-changing had happened.

"He's got a nasty gash on his head that looks worse than it is. CAT showed no fractures, brain bleeds, or bruising. Both bones in his right forearm were broken – clean breaks – it's been set and will heal nicely. Internally there's no sign of serious injury; some bruising, but that should do okay. His lower legs were very badly damaged."

The doctor paused for a moment. Too long in Auggie's opinion. "Okay, what are you trying not to have to tell me," Auggie said guardedly.

"Both his lower legs were seriously mangled. I think I managed to save the right. There wasn't much I could do for the left. I regret that I had to, but I had to amputate his left leg just below the knee."

The news that his son had just lost part of his leg hit Auggie like a blow to the gut. For a moment he thought he was going to be physically sick. He swallowed hard.

"It's not the end of the world for him," the surgeon said compassionately. "There is life after amputation. With the state of prostheses today, he'll still be able to do just about anything that he wants to do."

"Oh, I know that. I wasn't born blind," Auggie said pointedly. "His right leg. You said you think you've saved it. If you did, will it be functional? I've known men, and women, whose limbs were saved, but eventually they opted for amputation so they could get a prosthesis and actually be functional. I don't want that for my boy. Better to lose them both now and go forward from there."

"If the blood flow reestablishes the way it should, he'll keep the leg and it will have good function for him. It will never be one hundred percent again, but, with hard work, he should get to ninety percent. Maybe a bit more. We'll know in a few days if he'll keep it."

Auggie sighed deeply. "Now to figure out what to tell his mother when I call her."

"You're not together?"

"Oh, we're still married. She and our daughter are just out of town right now. Not due back until mid-week."

"Good luck with that one."

"When can I be with my boy?"

"He'll be in recovery for a while. Can't let you in there. But he'll be going to ICU. I can get someone to take you there now so that as soon as he's in his room you can be with him. I'm guessing about an hour-and-a-half till his released to ICU. You'll be more comfortable down there, too."

"Can I use my phone in here? I think it's time to call my wife."

"Yeah, if you can get a signal. If, not you'll be able to downstairs. I'll send someone over to escort you down." The doctor rose to leave. He briefly laid his hand on Auggie's shoulder as he passed by.

As soon as he heard the door behind him close, Auggie dug his phone out of his pocket. He took a deep breath and punched 1 on speed dial. He heard the phone ring on the other end.

Shortly Auggie heard Annie's sleepy voice. "Hullo."

"Annie?"

"Auggie. Do you know what time it is?"

"Not exactly, but it's before 7:00. Wanted to catch you before you got too far into your day."

"You did that. What's wrong, Auggie? You don't sound right, even for this hour of the morning." Auggie could hear the bewilderment in his wife's voice.

"It's Chris."

"What about Chris?" There was a mother's alarm in her voice now. The sleepiness was completely gone.

"He's been in an accident. A bad one. You need to come home. Now."

"Which hospital is he in? Corry and I can fly out of here straight to Chicago..."

"He's not in Illinois. He's here in Georgetown University Hospital. I'm not with him yet, but I will be soon. He's just got out of surgery and will be going into ICU shortly."

"Georgetown? He's supposed to be …"

"I know, Babe, I know. He was driving one of Austin's cars according to the Virginia State Police. I've got to go now. Someone is here to take me down to him. Be careful, but get here as soon as you can. Love you."

He ended the call before Annie got too curious. He didn't want to tell Annie that her son had lost his leg over the phone. He sat hunched forward with forearms on his thighs, holding the phone in his hand for a bit thinking, considering. For all the time he'd known her and been privy to her innermost personal and intimate thoughts, he really did not know how Annie was going to react to the news that her son had lost a limb. Would she take it in stride? Would she go all hysterical on him? No, in all honesty he didn't think she'd go into hysterics. Take it in stride – he knew she wouldn't do that, but where on the spectrum in between she'd fall he hadn't a clue. Now Corrine – Corrine would likely be the one to take to hysterics. Even though, at sixteen, she thought she knew it all, she really didn't have the life experience to handle this kind of life event. Especially to the big brother she idolized. When Christopher had left for school last fall, his being gone from the house had sent her into a state of defiance he had not thought her capable of. They would have to approach this carefully with her.

How and when to tell the rest of the family was now his concern. When he got down to Christopher's room in ICU he'd call Austin so he could get the insurance stuff started. And then he'd call James, his aide at work, to have him track down Austin's car and see if there were any personal effects of either Austin or Christopher that could be salvaged. A sound at the door brought Auggie's mind back to the here and now.

A few minutes later Auggie was being shown to a recliner in the corner of one of the ICU cubicles. Before she left the kindly, and very accommodating, nurse brought him a plastic pitcher of ice water and a disposable glass. And she mentioned that she'd be back from time to time just to check on him and see if he needed guidance to anywhere on the floor. She'd also shown him where the call button was located on the side-rail panel.

Auggie settled into the recliner and dug out his phone; it was time to start notifying people. The phone was barely out of his pocket when it began to chime James' tone. "James, I was just getting ready to call you," Auggie answered with a cheerfulness he didn't feel.

"You don't need to do that fake cheery thing with me, boss. How's Chris?"

Auggie sighed. James always seemed to be one step ahead of him. "He's holding his own, Jim. That's about all that I can say right now. He's had some surgery and is still in recovery. I'm in what will soon be his room in ICU. I haven't actually seen him yet."

"Holding his own is good. Do you know that there's a contingent of reporters outside the hospital? You are at Georgetown Main, right?"

"Yeah. Georgetown Main. God, do they expect me to make a statement? What I know I do not want to share with the public. This has NOTHING to do with my position with the CIA. It's personal. And private. I know that it's not in your job description, but could you come …"

"I'm already half-way there, boss. Just wanted to make sure that I was going to the right place."

Auggie started to say something more to James but discovered that the other man had already terminated the call. The curtain at the hallway side of the room was pulled back slightly, the metal slides making a rattling noise in the ceiling track.

"You might want to watch this, Mr. Anderson," the nurse said turning on the TV and quickly changing the channel.

"You know who I am?" Auggie said with surprise.

"When you live in this area it's rather had not to know the Deputy Director of the CIA on sight."

From the speaker in the rail panel of the bed came the tinny sound of the TV. 'Late last night there was a horrible crash on the 495 close to the George Washington Memorial Parkway interchange that backed up traffic for hours. And miles. The wreck was caused by a driver allegedly going northbound in the southbound lanes. The alleged wrong-way driver, Tyrone Bentley, 27, has a lengthy arrest record for DUI and did not have a valid driver's license from any state. He died on scene before help could arrive. The other driver was the nineteen-year-old son. Christopher Austin, of Deputy CIA Director August Anderson. There are no reports on his condition, but he was MedStar transported to Georgetown University Hospital in DC. In other news …'

"While the reporter was speaking there was helicopter coverage of the scene and a close-up still of one of the vehicles. That vehicle appeared to be a Mercedes but it was so mangled it was hard to tell for sure. There's also a cadre of reporters set up the street outside the hospital and demanding to know your son's condition. By law, we cannot tell anyone anything without your permission. Rumor has it that the hospital administrator is on her way in to see how you want this handled. I mean to see if you need space for a press conference."

"I just want them to go away and leave me and my family alone. My Aide from the office is on his way in also. James Ridgeway. Big, tall, black guy, or so I've been told. If you run into him send him my way please."

"Don't worry, Mr. Anderson. We will shield you and your family as best we can." And she was gone.

Before he could punch in the numbers to his brother, Austin's home line, the phone in his hand chimed again. "Hello," he said cautiously.

"Mr. Anderson? Bex Larsen here. I'm sorry to bother you, but I've got to know. Is the news right? I mean has Chris been in a wreck?" There was a tone in her voice that Auggie could not quite place. Concern. Yes, that was there, but something else, too. And she sounded close to tears.

"Yes, Bex. The news is correct. Chris was in a wreck last night. I'm at the hospital now."

"It's all my fault!" Rebecca Larsen exclaimed with a cry. "All my fault. He was coming home to see me."

"Bex, it's okay. It's not your fault. It's that drunk that was going the wrong way's fault. Bex, listen to me, Chris is alive. He's hurt, but he's alive. And he's going to live. Do you understand me, Bex?"

"Y…yes … I understand you," Rebecca said between sobs.

"Good. Chris is in the ICU. You can't see him today. But when he can have visitors I'll make sure you get to come see him. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a lot to deal with right now. I've got to go. Just remember Chris is alive. I will call you soon, I promise Bex." Auggie terminated the call. He ran his left hand through his hair, fisting a handful and drawing his fingers upward, tugging slightly at his scalp. Just what he didn't need – a guilt ridden, emotional, teenaged female. He shook his head and lowered his hand to his phone.

A few minutes later he was talking to his brother. "Hey, Austin," Auggie began again with the faked cheeriness.

"Cut the crap, Auggie," Austin said sternly. "What's wrong? You'd not be calling at this hour unless something was wrong."

Auggie sighed audibly. "I've got some bad news, some worse news, and some maybe okay news. Which do you want first?" he said in a voice that concealed nothing.

"Augs, give it to me in just that order,"

"Chris wrecked your car. Lost his left leg below the knee in it; might lose his right. It wasn't his fault. He was hit head-on by a drunk driver going the wrong way on the interstate. The other guy died." By the end of his words Auggie's voice was cracking and barely a whisper. He was talking to his brother and best friend; he could let his guarded emotions down for a bit.

"You're not shittin' me are you Augs. When and where?"

"God, Austin, I wish I was. I've been here since two or so. I guess maybe around midnight. I-495 just inside the Virginia border. He was just a few miles from home. Do you know why he was coming home and why he didn't tell us he was coming?"

"He was between semesters, the temp job that he thought he had between the end of the spring semester and the summer one didn't materialize. He wanted to come home for a bit and see you and this chic Bex Larsen. He didn't want to fly so I loaned him the car I was going to sell because I'd just bought a new one. I don't know why he didn't tell you he was coming. I thought he had." There was a tired, concerned quality to Austin's voice. "Augs, did Annie take Corry to Orlando like she was planning?"

"Yeah. I called her a bit ago. All I told her was that Chris had been in an accident and here, not there and to get home as soon as she could. That's all I had the heart to tell her. She's going to kick my ass when she gets here, but … I think they're bringing Chris in the room now. I've got to go. You've got the basics for the insurance and to let everyone there know. Call me later if you need more." Auggie ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"Mr. Anderson," the kindly nurse from before said. "We're bringing your son in now. Just stay where you are while we do what we need to do. He is still heavily sedated, but his vital signs have been strong and stable for the last half-hour. He's got a couple of IV's going, a catheter to drain his urine and several automatic monitors to check his blood pressure, heart rate, and blood gasses. These are all normal for ICU. He is breathing on his own so he does not have a respirator, but he is on oxygen. That is not abnormal for here." She moved away from him. Auggie only half paid attention to the sounds around him. A few minutes later she stood before him again. "Mr. Anderson, your son is in the bed now and as comfortable as we can make him. There are pillows under his right arm, and both lower legs. The rail on this side of the bed is down so that you can hold his hand easily if you want to do that. Is there anything that I can do for you before I leave? Oh, James is here; out in the ICU waiting area. Let me know when you're ready to see him."

"Okay. On your way out, would you pull the shades or curtain or whatever so that I can have a few minutes of total privacy with my son?"'

"I can do that. Or I can do that and hang around to tell you what it is that you're seeing when you check out your son the only way you can."

Auggie sat still in shock for a moment. Did he really hear what he thought he heard? "You're not going to fuss at me for touching my son?"

The sounds of a sliding door closing and the privacy curtains being closed. "Not at all. I'm Paula, by the way. I'll be here until six tonight and the next two days taking care of you and Christopher. Stand up. Are you right or left handed?" Paula asked as she came closer to Auggie.

"Right."

"Take a small step forward and you'll be right at the edge of the bed." Paula was right beside him now. "I'm going to take your right hand and guide you through this. We're going to start at the top of his head." She gently took Auggie's right hand and guided it to the shaved patch on Christopher's head. "This is where his head was lacerated. His head's been shaved – it's the new look for summer – and the cut glued back together. He'll have a scar, but not a horrible one. He's got some bruises on his face. That sometimes happens when the airbags go off. His mouth and teeth are just fine. This is the oxygen delivery system. It's kind of normal. Left shoulder, down the left arm, some bruising here, and the IV line. His torso is covered but I'm sure there's a good deal of bruising there. I'll look and let you know how badly bruised his chest and abdomen are if you want me to." Auggie shook his head 'No'. "Left thigh, knee, and what you want to see and don't want to see all at the same time – your son's residual limb. Go ahead. Use both hands. He's sedated it won't hurt him now."

A small cry of emotional pain escaped Auggie and tears formed in his eyes as he explored the length and contour of what was left of his son's left leg.

"It's okay Mr. Anderson. It's hard on everyone the first time the see a residual limb on a loved one. Some people get physically sick, or pass out. His residual limb is about average in length and nicely contoured. He should have no problem getting a good fitting prosthesis. That's a compression stocking to help keep the swelling down and maintain the shape that the surgeon worked so hard to achieve. When you're done looking, we'll move on to the right side."

Auggie allowed himself to be guided around the end of the hospital bed.

"Here are the toes on your son's right foot. They're nice and warm and pink. He's got a good pulse to it, too. I'm sure Dr. Peterson mentioned how worried he is about blood flow. So far so good. I'm cautiously optimistic. That's the air cast for his leg. More comfortable than the hard plaster cast I'm sure you were expecting."

"Wasn't expecting anything. Didn't know what to expect actually," Auggie said blandly while touching each toe on his son's foot tenderly. He remembered the first time, a little over nineteen years ago, when he first examined his son's legs, feet and toes, just to make sure his newborn had the full complement of fingers and toes. And now … "I'm done. I've seen all that I need to see." He began to work his way back around the hospital bed.

"Are you sure, Mr. Anderson?"

"Yes." Auggie said forcefully. "You can send James my way now." His tone was curt. Commanding.

The sliding door into the cubicle opened, but did not close. Several minutes later the familiar footsteps of his Aide were heard coming down the corridor.

"Auggie?" The deep rich baritone of James Ridgeway said as he came through the privacy curtain.

"Jim, I'm so sorry that you had to come out here this morning," Auggie said apologetically.

"It's okay, boss. I'm glad to do it. Maddie understands, too, and sends her … god, condolences sounds so wrong." He gasped. "Oh, my! I'm so sorry, Auggie."

"Kinda hard to miss is it?"Auggie asked as he stroked the back of Christopher's hand.

"Does Annie know?"

"No. Didn't have the heart to tell her over the phone. Just told her he'd been in an accident and to come home."

"Okay. What, if anything, do you want to tell the cadre of media that are clamoring for news?" James laid a comforting hand on Auggie's shoulder.

"I want to tell them to go to hell. But, I will settle for you telling them that there will be no press conference. I will not make any sort of statement. And we want to simply be left alone to deal with the private and serious injuries to our son in privacy. Do you think that that will satisfy them?"

"I don't know. But I'll give it a try. Oh, and boss, I've got your back."

"I know you do, Jim. You always do. Oh, when you've managed to get rid of the press, would you track down the car Chris was driving and see if there's any of his personal effects that are salvageable?"

"Of course, boss. Was planning on doing just that." James left the room after a consoling touch to his boss' arm.

Auggie shifted the recliner around so that he could sit on the edge of the seat and hold Christopher's hand somewhat comfortably. He located and wrapped his hand around his son's limp hand, being careful not to disturb the IV. He laid his forehead against the mattress. How long he sat like that, listening to the rhythmic click of the IV monitor, the even blips of another monitor, and his son's soft even breaths Auggie did not know, but a familiar name, James Ridgeway, came through the TV speaker in the bed rail making him pay attention to that, too. Soon the recognizable, although distorted, voice of his Aide came from the speaker.

'_Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press:__ I'm going to give a brief statement on behalf of the family and I will not be able to answer questions following this statement:__Deputy CIA Director August Anderson and his family appreciate the concern for their son, Christopher, who was injured in an automobile accident early this morning. This is a private and personal family matter. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson are at their son's bedside now and will not be making any statements to the press now or in the future. Although his injuries are significant, Christopher is projected to make a full recovery. The family requests that their privacy be respected. No details will be released about the nature and extent of Christopher's injuries. __Any further questions can be directed to the Public Relations Office of the CIA. Thank you for your understanding and concern__.__'_

The usual sounds of press shouting questions followed until the news channel cut back to their reporter in studio.

James' statement to the press brought a brief pleased smile to Auggie. He knew that he could count on James to put his unspoken thoughts into words. Then he went back to waiting and listening. Nursing staff came and left. Soft moans and the gentle twitching of the hand he held caused Auggie to startle to attention.

"Chris? Christopher? Are you here with me?" Only more moans. He tried again a little louder, a little more commanding, "Christopher! Answer me!"

"Dad?" A soft whisper. And a whimper.

"It's okay," Auggie said standing and trailing his left hand up his son's arm and shoulder to his head. He placed his palm on Christopher's cheek and stroked his hair. "It's okay, Daddy's here."

Auggie felt his son's eyelashes flutter against his thumb and he leaned into his father's touch.

"Do you know where you are?"

"A hospital?" Christopher asked quietly.

"Yes, Georgetown University in DC. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Driving and being almost ready to cross the river. What happened, Dad?" His voice was still soft, slightly slurred from the sedation, but it was getting stronger by the end of the question.

"You were hit head-on by a drunk wrong-way driver just after you crossed the bridge. You'll probably never remember that. And that's a good thing." Auggie continued to stoke his son's hair.

"Where's Mom?"

"I would imagine somewhere between Orlando and here," Auggie said quietly. "I called her and told her that there'd been an accident. Told her to come home right away."

"Corry's gonna hate me for ruining her trip to Universal."

"I doubt that, Chris. I really do."

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><p><strong>Like I said in the beginning, I don't expect expect many reviews, but I sure do like them.<strong>


	11. Chris' Crisis Part Two

**WOW! You guys totally blew me out of the water with your comments to the last chapter. Thank you. You made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.**

**This 'chapter' picks up with Annie just after Auggie hangs up on her. You already know what's happened to their son, so Annie's reaction will probably not be as gut wrenching. Or even Corrine's. And we don't learn how Chris himself reacts until the next edition. And, unfortunately that will not be available until sometime next week. My Beta is going on a well-deserved vacation. (And I've just now begun to write it, so I might not even get it to her until next week. Ducking in advance of the things being hurled my way) If you review, be nice. I want to know what happens just as much as you do.**

**The same acknowledgements as last 'chapter' - Carrie, Sue and Mandy have greatly influenced portions of this tale.**

**And I still don't own the original versions of Annie or Auggie. Darn it all.**

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><p>Annie looked at the phone in her hand. She could not believe that Auggie had just terminated a call on her. That bothered her – not that he'd abruptly ended the call, but that he didn't want to tell her more. A mother's fear coursed through her and unwanted tears began to form. She tried to sniffle them back.<p>

"Mom, what's wrong?" Corrine Anderson asked her mother in alarm.

"That was you father. Chris has been in an accident and is in the hospital in DC. We've got to go home right away."

"Oh, Mom," Corrine exclaimed. "How bad is Chris?"

Annie shook her head. "I don't know. Daddy didn't say. I'm assuming pretty bad if Daddy didn't want to say. … Get packed. We're going to the airport to get the next available flight back to DC."

A little over an hour later Annie was negotiating for seats on the next flight from Orlando back to DC. The agent was sympathetic to Annie's and Corrine's plight and did his best to accommodate them. He got them on a flight that was leaving within the hour – just enough time for them to get through security and to the boarding gate. The flight back to DC was uneventful. Both mother and daughter were mostly quiet on the little over two-hour flight.

When they arrived back at Washington Dulles International Airport and waited for their bags at the baggage claim area, they couldn't help but catch the noon local news airing on the lone TV in that area. Annie was riveted at the report of the accident that had sent her son to the hospital, she gasped at the sight of the mangled wreckage of a car. She could only sigh and thank god for James Ridgeway when he came on and made his statement on behalf of her family. Part of her was disgusted that his message was even necessary; part of her was oddly comforted at the outpouring of concern for her son.

Arriving at the hospital, Annie was somewhat surprised to still see a remote news crew at the front entrance to the hospital. She parked in the parking deck and crossed the elevated enclosed bridge from there to the hospital. It was a longer way to go, but one that would avoid the reporter. She wasn't sure that they were there for Christopher, but she didn't want to take a chance. Once inside she asked the first hospital employee she saw what floor the ICU was on and was surprised to learn that there were three intensive care units in different parts of the hospital. After a brief explanation of the circumstances she was directed to the general ICU. The closer she got to the ICU the more nervous Annie was about what she'd find when she got there.

Turning the corner into the ICU waiting area, Annie was shocked to see – although she should not have been she realized later – Christopher's friends from high school camped out there. From the looks of the soda cans and snack wrappers they'd been there for quite a while.

"Mrs. Anderson!" Harrison Jahn exclaimed in surprise when he looked up and saw her. "We all thought that you were inside with Chris."

"Corry and I were in Orlando when Mr. Anderson called to let us know that Chris was in the hospital. We got the first flight back here that we could. We're just getting here." Annie hugged a concerned Harrison.

Then Annie looked at Rebecca Larsen. Rebecca's eyes were red and puffy as if she'd been crying recently. The young woman was more than concerned for a friend. She was obviously distraught.

"Bex?" Annie asked as she held the young woman close.

"It's all my fault he's hurt," Rebecca whispered. "He was coming home to see me."

"Bex, don't do this to yourself. It's not your fault. He was coming home to see us, too," Annie consoled, patting Rebecca on the back.

"I'll try not to," Rebecca whispered and pulled away. "Do you know how he is? No one's saying anything about him. That man – Mr. Ridgeway was it? —said you were already with Chris and that you wanted privacy. We understand that. He's your son, but he's our friend, too. And he's my best friend. Well, outside of Crys that it."

"The only one that knows anything is Mr. Anderson. And he's in there. And has been in there for close to ten hours it seems. If I know him at all, he hasn't left Chris' side to eat or anything. It may take some doing, but I'm going to try to pry him away from Chris so that Corry and you guys can take him down to the cafeteria and make him eat something. He'll tell you what he wants you to know then. Okay?"

"Mo-um," Corrine whined. "I can't go back with you?"

Annie moved and took Corrine by the shoulders. "No, Corry you can not. I want to find out exactly what it is this family is facing before I tell any of you anything. Is that understood?" Annie looked around at the somberly nodding heads. Even Corrine's.

Moving to the closed doors with the emblazoned 'Authorized Persons Only' on them, Annie firmly pressed the intercom button. "Mrs. Anderson for her son Christopher."

"Do you have photo ID with you?" a disembodied voice came over the small speaker.

"Yes," Annie replied.

"Please have it ready and someone will be right out."

Annie dug out her wallet with her driver's license in it. A few minutes later an aide in pale blue scrubs opened the door, looked at the ID that Annie held out, and asked Annie to follow her.

As she followed the aide down the surprisingly quiet corridor, Annie took several deep breaths to calm her frayed nerves.

"In here Mrs. Anderson," the woman said and motioned to an opening in the glass wall.

Annie nodded to the woman who took a few paces to the nurses' station and disappeared around a partition. She paused for a few moments to take in the tableaux before her. Auggie sat leaned forward with his head resting on the bed with his face pointing toward the floor and his right hand rested lightly on Christopher's left hand. She took in the monitors and the IVs. Finally she allowed her eyes to fall on her son. His eyes were closed and she could not tell if he was just asleep or still unconscious. The right side of his head was shaved and there was an angry red gash there held together with medical glue and a few steri strips; his right arm was okay except for the soft air splint on his forearm; his right leg was heavily bandaged and sported an air cast also. His left leg … Annie's hands flew to her mouth to stifle the scream that was rising in her throat. She swallowed hard – to get rid of the scream, and to try to calm the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach – and took a step into the room.

"Auggie," she said softly a slight catch in her voice. Auggie's head snapped up at the sound of his wife's voice. He was haggard looking and disheveled. It was apparent that his hair hadn't seen a comb since yesterday morning and he really needed a shave, but he was still her refuge in this storm.

"Annie," he said quietly. He stood and took a few steps toward her. Annie closed the gap between them in two long strides and slipped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Auggie wrapped his right arm around her waist; his left hand went to the back of her head holding it in place as she sobbed. "Are those tears happy that he's alive?"

Shaking her head no she asked through her tears, "His leg … does he know?"

"You saw that?" he murmured into the hair on the top of her head.

"Kinda hard to miss," Annie said taking a half step back and tilting her head up to look at her husband.

"No. I don't think he's aware of much at this point. He's on heavy painkillers right now and is sort of drifting in and out of sleep. He knows that he's in the hospital and that he's been in a bad wreck. He knows I'm here. Beyond that … I don't know what his body is or is not telling him through the drugs. If he knows he has made no indication to me. It's been suggested that we don't tell him anything unless he asks. Let him discover the loss on his own. I'm not sure I agree with that, but …" his voice simply trailed off.

"I'm not sure that I do either, we'll have to think about that."

"Yeah, something like that," Auggie said flatly. "Is there another chair is this room?"

"Here in this corner," Annie said moving toward the chair. She moved the tall backed, metal chair to beside the recliner.

Auggie sat in the metal chair and Annie took the edge of the recliner that Auggie had vacated just moments before. Annie wrapped her right hand over the top of Christopher's. He seemed to notice the difference in the hand holding his as he murmured, "Mom?"

"Yes, honey. I'm here now. Dad and I've just swapped seats. Go back to sleep or wherever it was you were. In a few minutes I'm going to take your dad out to the waiting room so that Corry can take him down to the cafeteria and make him eat something. Some of your friends are out there, too. Harrison, Yem, Kevin, Crys and Bex. Looks like they've been here all morning."

"How did they know I'm here?"

"Your accident was the lead story on the news. And they connected you to Daddy, and Mr. Ridgeway had to come and make a statement that this was a private family matter and to go away and leave us alone."

Christopher smiled weakly and chuckled a bit. "Eww that hurt."

"You've got some internal injuries, Chris," Auggie told his son. "It's going to hurt to laugh for a while. We'll try not to make you."

That brought another small smile to Christopher's face before he drifted off to sleep again.

"Chris, I'm going to go for a few minutes and take Dad out to Corry so she can take him down to the cafeteria and make him eat something. Corry and I had something on the way in from the airport. I'm sure that your father hasn't eaten since he got here." Annie whispered to her sleeping son.

"Annie, no …"

"Yes, August. You are going. You need a break and something to eat. Even if it is hospital cafeteria food," Annie said in a tone that made Auggie flinch a bit.

He sighed and said contritely, "Yes, Dear."

Annie picked up Auggie's cane from the bedside stand and stood up. Auggie stood also and moved to the end of the bed. He latched on to Annie's arm as she brushed by him.

No sooner than they'd cleared the doorway, the nurse, Paula, stopped them with a, "Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, I have something for you." She handed two magnetic strip cards to Annie. "These will get you back into the ICU without having to use the intercom. The swipe pad is next to the intercom. Some patients are restricted to visitors only during certain hours. Right now, you son is not. No non-family right now; and no children under sixteen. You okay with that?"

"Yes," Annie said taking the cards and pressing one into Auggie's hand.

When the nurse had left them, Annie took a few more steps until she was out of sight of Christopher's cubicle. "August Anderson I am so angry with you right now …"

Auggie held up his hands palms toward Annie. "I know why. You're mad cuz I didn't tell you exactly what happened to our son. I couldn't do that on the phone, Anne, I just couldn't do it. I knew you'd be upset with me when you got here for that. I'm sorry. I could have at least let you know he wasn't in immediate danger of dying. That had to be running through your thoughts."

"That was the only thing running through my thoughts. Was my son dead? And would he be before I got here. What you did, Auggie, was cruel. But I'm sure at the time you weren't thinking totally clearly. I'm still pissed, but I'll let you off the hook." She squeezed her husband's hand. "Shall we put on our happy faces and go deal with our daughter now?"

"Don't know about the happy face, but let's go deal with Corry. And probably Chris' friends, too." He took in a deep breath and exhaled through pursed lips. "And I'll even let them take me to lunch. Or, more like 'linner'."

Annie couldn't help but smile at the smash-up of lunch and dinner that Auggie liked to use sometimes. She brushed her hand against Auggie's and together they pushed through the double doors and into the waiting room.

# # # # #

As he pushed through the door Auggie further steeled his nerves for the onslaught of young people he somehow knew he'd be barraged with. Especially his hormonal daughter.

"Oh, Daddy, you look like you've been hit by a truck. You're hairs sticking out all over the place." He heard the sound of his daughter digging in her purse. "Use this before you go anywhere with me." She pressed her ever present hairbrush into his hand.

"You're in good hands, Dear," Annie said patting Auggie on the arm. "I'm going back to Chris, now. Corry, make sure he eats something. … Something more than the soda and snack foods your friends have been consuming all day. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mom. I hear you. I even understand you," Corrine said a bit derisively.

"Is this better?" Auggie asked once again trying to intervene between mother and daughter.

"It's better, Dad. Come sit down a minute and let me fix it for you," Corrine said taking her father's hand and leading him to a chair.

"Oh, Mrs. Anderson," Rebecca Larsen said running after Annie. "I forgot to give these balloons to you earlier. Can you tie them where Chris can see them when he wakes up? Has he woken up yet?"

"Thank you, Bex. I think I can do that. He's heavily sedated and drifts in and out. He knows that we're with him, but I'm not sure when he might be aware of these. When he is, I know that he'll appreciate them. Mr. Anderson and I appreciate the thought, too." Annie opened the doors and headed back to her son.

Corrine, fussing with her father's hair, asked him pointedly, "What's wrong with Chris. Is he going to be okay?"

"Are we alone?"

"Chris' friends are here, but no one else. There's a room over to the side that has a door. We can go over there if you want," Corrine explained without excess emotion.

"Let's go in there for a minute, Corry," Auggie said to his daughter. Then turning his head toward one of his son's friends, "Once I'm done letting my daughter know what's going on with her brother, I'll let the rest of you in on it, too."

"Is there room in there for all of us?" Crystal Larsen asked.

"It would be close quarters, but yeah," Harrison offered.

"Okay, then," Auggie said. "Corrine?"

"I've got you, Dad," Corrine said coming around to the front of the chair and touching her father's arm.

Once inside the room Corrine placed her father's hand on the back of the chair just inside the door and sat in the one across from him. "Okay, Dad, what's wrong with Chris?"

"Chris is going to be okay, but he's not going to be the same as he was when he went off to school last fall."

"Daddy, you're scaring me," Corrine said anxiously.

"Sorry, Sweet Pea," the father said reaching out for his daughter's hand. "Chris has a head injury that I've been told looks far worse than it is. He has some internal bruising and they're hoping that they don't have to do surgery for that. His right arm and leg are broken. The leg had to be surgically repaired with metal plates and screws. … He lost his left leg below the knee. The doctor said that there was nothing he could do to save it."

"Oh, Daddy!" Corrine exclaimed as she moved sit on her father's lap and buried her face in his shoulder. Auggie wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her, rocking slightly, as she sobbed for a bit. Finally she sat up straight and moved back to the other chair. "What does this mean for him?"

Auggie sighed. "I don't know, honey. With his other injuries, I'm not sure what kind of timetable they'll have him on for rehab. As soon as his leg heals he'll be fitted with a prosthesis and learn to walk again. I have no clue how long that will take – to get him back on his feet again. In the meantime, he's going to need our love and support, but we can't baby him either. These next few months are going to be rough for everyone."

"And everyone will be so focused on Chris that you'll forget I even exist," Corrine pouted. "That's how it was when Cassie's baby brother was sick. He parents practically forgot she existed."

"I hope that doesn't happen, but if it does just remind us, nicely, that you need us too."

"Okay, Dad. Now what are you going to tell the others?"

"Pretty much what I just what I told you. Do you want to stay in here for that or wait for me outside in the waiting area?"

"I'll send them in on my way out," Corrine said.

As he waited for his son's friends, Auggie moved around the desk and took the seat behind it. He thought about how much to tell the young men and women who he'd known for so long – and though of three of them as extensions of his own family – what had happened and would happen to their friend. He finally decided on telling them the whole truth.

When he heard the door shut firmly after the five young people had filed in and taken seats where they could find them, Auggie began to speak. His tone was tired, but firm and commanding. "What I'm going to tell you will not go beyond these walls. Is that clear to everyone? If I hear any of this in a newscast or read it in the paper, all of you will be banned from seeing Chris."

A chorus of "Yes, Sirs," reached Auggie's ears.

Auggie put his arms on the desk and leaned forward slightly. "I'm going to tell you what was told to me. I'm holding nothing back. … Chris has a head injury, but no brain damage. At least that's what a CAT scan said. Outside of the ugly gash his head's okay. He has some internal bruises. They think those will be okay. His right arm's broken and casted. Will heal and be okay. His left is just badly bruised. Or so I've been told. His legs took the brunt of his injuries. His right leg had to be surgically repaired with pins, plates and screws to hold the bones together while they heal. He might still lose it. He has lost his left leg below the knee." Auggie stated the final bit calmly and matter-of-factly.

Those around him gasped in horror. Rebecca or Crystal Larsen let out a strangled sob. Auggie continued authoritatively. "He's going to need all of us now – his family and his best friends. This accident and the loss of his leg are going to change him. Maybe for the better; maybe not. He may welcome your continued friendship. He may try to push you away. In pushing you away he might be mean to you. Cruel even. I can't tell you how he's going to react or how you need to react to him, except to say to just treat him like you always have. Don't minimize what's happened to him too much, but don't make too big a deal out of it either. It's going to be tricky for a while. Let him lead, but do not pity him! He is not to be pitied! Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes, Sir," sounded around him.

"It's Crys, Mr. Anderson. Are you telling us these things from experience?" the young woman asked quietly.

"Yes," Auggie said. "When I was blinded I withdrew into isolation. Self-imposed isolation. I hid from my family. Only one person knew what had happened to me and I swore my brother Alan to secrecy. I chose a rehab facility as far away from my family as I could get, even though there was an excellent VA rehab facility less than an hour from my family. Oh, I received excellent care where I went, but I went it alone. I thought that I was sparing them from the hurt of seeing me struggle to put my life back together. The only one I was hurting was myself. I really could have used the emotional support of those that loved me. I thought I could do it all by myself. I did, but it might have been a whole lot easier with family around me. Chris is lucky in one respect – he'll have his family to support him. I hope he'll have his friends, too."

"I'm not going anywhere, Mr. Anderson," Harrison said determinedly. "Chris has been my friend for so long that I can't remember a time when he wasn't."

Everyone expressed sentiments similar to Harrison's. Everyone except Rebecca Larsen. Auggie could not help but notice. "And you Bex?"

"I don't know if he'll want to see me," she sobbed.

Auggie motioned the others out of the room. "Bex, I know he's going to want to see you," Auggie said firmly as soon as the door closed.

"How can you be so sure? He's going to blame me for what happened to him. I just know it. He wasn't going to come home. I guilted him into coming."

"Bex, come sit on the desk over here by me."

Rebecca complied. When she'd settled onto the desktop, Auggie extended a hand to her. She placed her hand in his. "Bex, Chris takes after me very strongly in one area. No one, and I mean no one, can get us to do anything we don't really want to do. Even Mrs. Anderson can't get me to go some places. She can't even guilt me into going. Chris was playing with you. He wanted to know how far you'd go the get him home. He wanted to know how much you wanted to see him."

"How can you be so sure of that?" Rebecca asked weakly.

"I know because I've done the same thing. He was testing you. He would not have come if you hadn't passed the test. …. Bex, Chris loves you. Maybe not the forever romantic kind of love; but you are important in his life. So is Crys, and Harrison, but you hold a special place."

"How do you know?" Rebecca asked pointedly.

"Bex, haven't you learned by now the just because I'm blind doesn't mean I don't know what's going on?"

"Oh. … Yeah. He's important to me, too. But I'm still so afraid that he's gonna hate me now."

"Bex, listen to me. If you want to devastate my son, not showing up as soon as he can have non-immediate family visitors is the best way to do it. I understand your fear. Really, I do. But let HIM be the one to tell you what he wants from you. Maybe seeing you will be too painful for him. I don't know. But my guess is that he'll want … no that's not right … that he will need you now more than ever." Auggie sighed. "I'm going to tell you something … Chris is going to have body image problems. He is going to feel that he is no longer desirable to girls. Women. If you avoid him, it will, in his mind, confirm that. In all honesty, you may find what's left of his leg repulsive at first. I implore you to NEVER let him see that in you. I don't know how you're going to feel when you see 'it'. It's not going to be easy. Acknowledge what's happened; try to treat it like it's no big deal to you. That's might be hard, but it's important."

"How do you know this?" This time the question was softer, less mocking. "Is that what happened with you?"

Auggie squeezed Rebecca's hand reassuringly then removed his hand from hers. He leaned back in the office chair a bit. "I know this because I've been through Walter Reed with men, and a few women, who've had limbs blown off by IEDs. Sometimes Vets talk to other Vets about things they'd never tell anyone else. No, I didn't really have a body image problem. I was lucky I guess. When I was blinded I didn't have scars on the outside. And at first glance my eyes looked normal enough. But I did wonder if women would still find me desirable. My biggest challenge came in projecting an image that made people see me instead of this." He held up his cane. "Maybe not in the same way, but I've been where Chris is going to be in a few days. Once he becomes aware of what happened to him. He is going to have a wide range of emotions. Anger is going to be a strong one. How you, and he, deal with that anger is going to be key. He can stay angry, wallow in self-pity, and become bitter. Or, he can channel that anger into becoming the best one-legged guy he can be. You – and Harrison, Crys, and his other friends – can help him do the latter. But before you can help him do that, Bex, you have to forgive yourself for whatever part you feel that you've played in this. It's not your fault. If you want to blame someone, blame who I do – the asshole that hit him. I blame him, Bex. I don't blame you, Mrs. Anderson doesn't blame you, and I don't think Chris is going to blame you. Guilt is not going to help you, and it's certainly not going to help Chris. Guilt is destructive energy. Turn that negative energy into something positive and use it to help my son get through this. Do this for me. Do it for Chris. But most of all do it for you. Guilt can eat you alive if you let it. Don't let it consume you."

"You sound like you know all about that," Rebecca commented.

"Yeah. I do. Carried it with me for a long time. Almost made me do something that went against who I really was. I don't want to see that happen to you." Auggie closed his eyes and put that memory back where it belonged. He would never forget, he lived with it every day, but it had long ago stopped haunting him as much as it once had. "Bex, I have said more than I ever meant to. And I have just discovered that I am hungry enough that even hospital cafeteria food sounds good. Let's go find Corry so she can follow her mother's directive and get me something to eat. … Are you going to be okay now?

"Yeah. Mr. Anderson. I think that I am. And I know what I have to do." Bex slid off the desktop.

A few minutes later Auggie, and the entourage of his son's friends, was seated in the hospital's cafeteria. Corrine had insisted that her father have a proper meal instead of the sandwich he'd wanted. Everyone had selected something from the items that the cafeteria offered and Auggie had paid for everyone's meal.

Later, when they were all back up in the ICU waiting room Auggie asked the assembled group, "Once Corry's seen her brother for a few minutes, would one of you take Corry home for me?"

"Dad, I don't want to go home!" Corry exclaimed.

"I know you don't," Auggie said understandingly. "But you really can't stay here all night as much as you want to. You all need to go home. None of you are going to be able to see Chris for a few days. You can't camp out here until you can. It's not healthy. Corry, Piper needs to be cared for. Mom and I will probably be home later tonight anyway. Or at least one of us will be."

"Bex and I'll take her home. And if she wants, one or both of us will stay with her," Crystal stated.

"That would be nice of you, Crys," Auggie said appreciatively. "Now, Corry, do you want to go see your brother for a little bit?"

"Yes, Dad, I do," Corrine said touching his hand.

As Auggie was escorting Corrine toward her brother's hospital room, he felt her hesitate as they got closer to the cubicle. "Having second thoughts? You don't have to do this, you know. Just thought you'd want to," he said as he stopped near what he thought was Christopher's room.

"I'm sure that I want to see him, I'm just not sure that I can handle seeing him without a leg."

"If you want to wait until tomorrow …"

"No, Dad, I'm going to see him now. Today," Corrine said resolutely and took the lead from her father. She took the following few paces to her brother's bedside with her father on her arm.

"Corry," Annie said as they entered the room. "Come to see your brother I see. He's sleeping right now. But he's alive and holding his own."

"He's been awake?"

"Yes, he has, but not for long. A few minutes here and there," Annie said.

"Mom, does he know about his leg?"

"No. Not yet," Auggie said quietly. He heard Corrine sniffle.

"I'm going now," Corrine said. "Tell him that I was here and that I love him."

"You're not staying?" Auggie asked his daughter.

"No, Dad. I can't … I can't take seeing him so pale and hurt."

"Okay, no one's forcing you to. I'll walk you out?"

Corrine bushed past her father and he caught her arm as she went by. They moved silently to the entry doors to the ICU. When they were at the door, Auggie embraced his daughter. "Corry, these next few days are going to be rough on all of us, but Chris is going to be okay. We're going to be okay. We'll get through this as a family. Now, go home. If you want Bex or Crys to stay with you, that's just fine. Maybe it's a good idea if you're not alone. If you don't want Bex or Crys with you, maybe Cassie or Holly? But, no boys, Corry. Please. … When he was first waking up, Chris was afraid that you were going to be mad at him for ruining your trip to Orlando."

"Oh, Daddy, tell Chris that I'm not mad at him for that. He's way more important than any stupid roller coaster," Corrine stated sincerely.

"I'm happy to hear that, Sweat Pea. I'll let your brother know. Now, go home. Call me when you get there and let me know who's going to stay with you,"

"I will Dad. I'll call when I get home," she broke her father's embrace and pushed through the swinging doors.

When he heard the doors close, Auggie trailed the right hand wall to the corner and then angled off it to where he thought that Chris' room was. He walked with arms loosely extended before him. The knuckles on his left hand met with a glass wall; his right with air. "Annie?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, yeah, Auggie. Chair about six feet straight ahead."

"Any changes?" Auggie asked as he crossed to the chair.

"No. He was awake for a bit while you were gone, fussing about his legs hurting so bad – like they were on fire. About then the nurse came in and changed IV bags and injected something into the IV line. Chris sort of drifted off shortly thereafter. … You look better. You've eaten I take it?"

"Yeah. I was just going to get a quick sandwich, but your daughter made me get a proper meal – some surprisingly good meatloaf, passable scalloped potatoes, and you can't really mess up canned green beans, and a couple of glasses of tea. And yeah, I do feel a bit better. Hopefully I've sent the young people home. Crys and Bex are taking Corry home. They're going to stay with her, too. So don't make a big to-do out of me sending Corry home alone."

"I'm not going to fuss at you. What I want to know is how you can be so calm about this devastating injury to our son!"

Auggie rose quickly from his seat. "Annie Let's take this outside," he said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Once they were in the corridor with the door to Chris' room closed and out of his line of sight should he wake, Auggie turned on Annie, "You think that because I cannot constantly see what that drunken bastard did to my son that I don't understand the ramifications of it. I've seen what he did, Anne. And it broke my heart. And I've wept for my son. But I've had a few more hours to wrap my head around it and what it means for Christopher. Yeah, parts of his life are going to change, but it's probably not going to change as much as mine did."

Annie covered Auggie's mouth with her hand, silencing him "Auggie, I did not mean to imply that you are not hurting. I know you are. What I wanted to know was where you got the inner strength to hold it together in front of Chris. And I just realized." Annie wrapped her arms around Auggie's torso and buried her face in his chest. "You've been somewhere similar. Oh, Auggie I am so angry. And I have nowhere to channel it. The bastard that did this to our son is dead – or so the news report I heard said."

"That's what I heard, too." Auggie rested his cheek on the top of Annie's head. "I have a feeling that we're both going to have a few rounds with the heavy bag when we get back to Langley."

"I so want to scream, yell, and punch someone right now. God, Auggie, what's this going to do to him?" Annie began to beat on Auggie's chest with clenched fists.

After she'd gotten in a few good whacks Auggie caught her by the wrists. "I don't mind being you punching bag, but that really hurts."

"Sorry," she mumbled into his chest, and then pulled back a bit. "Auggie, am I a bad mother for being sick to my stomach at the sight of part of my son's body?"

"I wouldn't know about that. Occasionally being blind has its advantages. But I think not. I had a hard time looking at it, too. And Chris might even have a hard time with that for a while."

Behind them there was a muffled scream. An alarm sounded in the nurses' station. Feet rushed to the room that Annie and Auggie had recently left.


	12. Chris' Crisis Part Three

**A quicker than anticipated conclusion to the 'cliffie' I left you with the other day. I couldn't leave you hanging like that for a week. The next offering will be next week sometime.**

**Thanks again to Carrie, Sue and, of course, Mandy58.**

**I still don't own Covert Affairs. I was prepared not to like this week's episode because it had Ben in it, but I reluctantly found myself liking it a lot. Not as much as last week, but I liked it way more than I wanted to. **

* * *

><p>"It's Chris, Auggie. He needs me!" Annie tried to wrench her wrists away from where Auggie still held them. He responded by holding them more firmly.<p>

"No. He needs the nurses to do what they're trained to do. Tell me what's happening in there." The first part was said firmly; the second more pleadingly.

"Right now they're just talking to him; touching him reassuringly. It seems to have been the heart monitor that went off. From the looks of that monitor his heart was beating too fast and seems to be getting back to a more normal rhythm now. … Do you think he just realized …"

"I don't know. Maybe. We'll find out when we go back in."

"The nurses are coming this way now."

"The medications are messing with his mind," one of the nurses said as she approached Annie and Auggie. "Don't know if it's a hallucination or an actual memory, but he said he saw headlights coming straight at him in his semi-conscious state. We need to keep him calm. Quiet. If this continues to happen we may need to sedate him more."

"Can we go back in with him now?" Annie asked.

"Yes. Just keep him calm." The nurse in the turquoise colored scrubs said as she moved toward the nursing station.

"You okay, Chris?" Annie asked as she sat down and took up his hand.

"No, Mom. But my heart and breathing are back to what passes for normal right now. I hurt all over but in sort of a fuzzy way like I'm drugged. I don't know what's going on. All I know is that I was in a wreck that I don't clearly remember and Dad says I maybe never will. I want answers Mom, Dad, and I want them now!"

"Auggie?" Annie questioned.

Auggie sighed and ran both hands through his hair, messing it up again. "Yeah, you are drugged up on morphine. … We don't know everything, but this is what I've been told. After the wreck you were air lifted here to the hospital where you were assessed and put back together. Right arm and leg broken – surgery on the leg to set the bones with pins, plates and screws. Gash on your head but no brain damage they say. Some internal injuries, but nothing that needed surgery … so far. ..." Auggie voice trailed off.

"Dad, you're avoiding something. I can tell. What?"

"Your father was told to let you find out on your own. I'm not under that directive," Annie began softly while locating the controls that raised and lowered the head and foot of the bed. She raised the head of the bed so that Christopher was nearly upright and his knees were bent and slightly elevated. Christopher kept his eyes on his father with a puzzled look on his face the entire time his mother was repositioning him from the reclined posture.

"Mom, what are you doing?" Christopher asked wincing slightly.

"I'm making it possible for you to discover what no one wants to tell you. Look at your legs," she commanded gently. She picked up Christopher's hand reassuringly and watched as her son's gaze shifted from his father's face to the foot of the bed. She watched his eyes grow wide, then close as what color he did have drain from his face. She heard the strangled whimper. She saw the look on his features change from bewilderment to shock and then to anger. She was stunned at his next words.

"Get out! Both of you get out of my room!" Christopher hissed through clenched teeth.

Annie reached out to caress her son's cheek. He flinched slightly as he raised his casted right arm to knock her hand away.

"No, Mom. This is not a minor boyhood booboo that you can make all better with a kiss. I've lost my leg, Mom. I need some time to wrap my head around what that means for my future," Christopher said turning his head away from his parents. "I don't know what upsets me more right now – losing my leg or you guys not wanting to tell me I had."

"We wanted to, just didn't know how," Auggie said firmly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Anderson," the nurse said coming into the room. "You were asked to keep your son quiet and calm. His heart rate is rising again. … You know?" she said taking a couple of steps toward Christopher.

"Know that I lost a leg? Yeah, I know. Now. That my father is a gutless, blind wonder? I'm just finding that out," Christopher spat the last words out with a venom that shocked everyone.

The night nurse looked from person to person, sighed and left the room.

"Christopher!" Auggie exclaimed sharply. "That will be quite enough. You're angry, but you're not going to take it out on me."

Christopher glared at his father, but his look softened a bit. "Go. Go home and take care of Corry. I don't want to see her either. I don't want to see anyone," Christopher said a bit less harshly and turned his head toward the opposite wall. The monitors continued to show elevated readings.

Annie maneuvered Auggie away from the bed.

In low voice she asked Auggie, "Are you okay?"

Auggie shrugged his shoulders. "You mean about what Chris said. Yeah. I know where it came from. We need to give him a bit of space," he said in an equally low voice.

"Are my friend's still out in the waiting room?" Christopher asked pointedly.

"I don't know," Auggie said turning toward his son. "Before I came back in here, I told them to leave and go home; that they weren't going to be able to see you for a few days. I don't know if they've actually gone."

"How much does Bex know?" Christopher asked. Fear and concern now laced his tone. Suddenly he turned his head to the wall again. "I hope they've gone, too. I hope you told them I'm alive and no more. I don't want to see them now or ever again."

"Chris, don't do that. Don't push your friends away," Annie implored her son.

"And it's a little late for not telling them anything. Harrison, Bex and Crys have been told everything. They can't wait to be able to come see you."

"Well, that's just great Dad." Sarcasm dripped from Christopher's words. "You can tell my friends without a problem, but you couldn't tell me."

"Chris, let me explain why …"

"No, Dad, I don't want to know why. All that matters is that the whole damn world will now know that there's another damn cripple in the Anderson house."

"I swore them to secrecy. They needed to know. You'll need your friends, now more than ever," Auggie said before turning and walking, shoulders slumping a bit, toward the doorway.

"Christopher, what's gotten into you?" Annie asked pointedly of her son.

Christopher shook his head. "I don't know where that came from Mom. Go after Dad."

"He'll be back when he's ready. He's worked so hard to not be seen that way. Hearing that from his son …"

"I'd go after him myself, but I'm not going anywhere for a while," Christopher interrupted and laughed wryly. "Mom, please, go after Dad. Tell him I'm sorry. Please, Mom." He was pleading with her both with his words and with the look in his eyes.

"Okay, I'll go," Annie said softly as she rose from the chair. When she reached the corridor she looked first to her left, then to the right. And then she saw his feet. He was sitting on the floor of the corridor that led to the entry doors. His back was against the wall, arms wrapped around drawn up knees, forehead resting on his knees. She knelt beside her husband. "Chris sent me after you. He says he's sorry."

Auggie lifted his head and turned his face toward Annie. His cheeks were wet.

"Oh, honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah. What he said stung for a minute. That's not what I'm upset about. Yeah, he's sorry for calling me that, but he's not sorry for using that term on himself. He already sees himself in a negative light. I know it's a dark time for him right now, but … God, Anne, I don't know what to do. I really don't know what to do."

"I don't either, Auggie. Despite your experience, this is uncharted territory for both of us. We'll just have to muddle through the best we can, and hope we choose the right things to say and do. … C'mon, let's go back to Chris."

Reluctantly, Auggie slowly clambered to his feet and declined Annie's sighted lead offer. When they got back in the room, Annie could tell that Christopher was fighting the sleep that wanted him to succumb to it.

"Dad, I am so sorry for what I said. I don't know where that came from," Christopher said as soon as his father entered the room.

Auggie located the chair and sat down before he spoke. "It's okay, son. I know where it came from. Knowing that doesn't make it any easier to hear though," Auggie said tiredly. "Drift back off to sleep. You need that right now. Your mom will be here when you wake. I'm going home for a while."

"Dad, don't run off because of what I said …"

"I'm not. You're pretty much out of danger as long as you keep calm. I've just been here long enough. I need a shower, some rest in a real bed, and your sister does need parental support right now. I'm not going for a little while."

"Okay," Christopher said closing his eyes. Soon he was asleep once again.

# # # # #

Annie and Auggie sat quietly holding hands and watching their son sleep. All was quiet until the phone in Auggie's pocket began to play the tune he'd assigned to his daughter. He retrieved the phone from his front pocket and answered it.

"You home now?" Auggie answered.

"No, I'm not," Corrine stated. She was crying softly.

"What's wrong, Corry?" Auggie asked trying to keep the alarm he felt out of his voice.

"We – Harrison, Bex, Crys and me – are parked a block from the house. There's a news van parked on the street in front of the house. Harrison called the cops. Since they're on the public right-of-way there's not a thing the cops can do. We don't know what to do Dad."

"Damnit!" Auggie exclaimed as he struck his thigh with his free hand.

"What is it, Auggie?" Annie asked with alarm.

"Reporter at the house," Auggie stated cryptically to Annie. "Who's driving?"

"Harrison. We're in his car," Corrine responded.

"Are Bex or Crys staying the night with you?"

"Yeah, they've got their stuff in the trunk."

"Good. Have Harrison pull all the way into the back of the drive and all of you go in the house together. If he can, have Harrison stay until I get there in about an hour. Don't tell the reporter anything. If they step on our property call the cops and tell them you have a trespasser."

"Why is there even a reporter here, Dad?"

"Because someone thinks your brother is news because of me being high profile at work. I'm sorry that you're caught in the middle. I'll be home as soon as I can. Hang in there, Sweet Pea."

As soon as he'd ended the call with his daughter, Auggie called the car service he usually used. They'd have a car at the hospital entrance for him in twenty minutes.

Annie pulled herself away from her son long enough to walk her husband to the main bank of elevators that would take him to the lobby. As they waited for an elevator, they held each other in a close embrace for a few long moments. As the bell dinged announcing the arrival of the car, Auggie tenderly kissed his wife. His free hand trailed down her arm and off her fingertips as he entered the elevator. He wanted to make the contact with Annie last as long as he could.

While he rode down, Auggie unfolded his cane so that it would be ready when he exited the elevator. Annie had described how to get from the elevator, across the lobby and to the curb as they'd walked the corridors upstairs. Turning right he paced out seventy-five feet and found the main entry doors. It was about the same to the curb where his car should be waiting.

He had taken but three strides when a vaguely familiar female voice said his name. "Mr. Anderson, may we have a word with you?" Auggie felt as if he should know that voice, but his tired brain could not, for the life of him, place it; but it screamed – reporter.

He tried to keep walking, ignoring whoever it was. But a hand on his arm stopped him. He had hoped that being in casual clothes and not a suit and tie, he could slip out un-noticed. Apparently he was wrong about that.

"Auggie, may I have a few minutes of your time? Your driver isn't here yet."

Unless his car and driver instantly materialized, Auggie was trapped and he knew it. On a long-shot Auggie asked, "Do you have a crew at my house, too?"

"I'm not sure, but my producer said something about sending a crew over there, too."

"Call them off, and I'll talk to you," Auggie said with resignation. He heard a muffled phone conversation.

"Okay. The other crew is rolling away from your house now. You don't recognize my voice do you, Auggie?"

"It's got a vaguely familiar ring to it, but no. No, I'm not sure who you are," Auggie admitted reluctantly.

"I don't know why I thought that you would, Auggie. It's been a very long time. It's Liza, Auggie. Liza Hearn."

"Oh. Not a name I've heard about much in the last – what twenty years? Last time I heard you'd left town in disgrace. How are you Liza?"

"I'm okay, Auggie. I'm back in town working now for a second rate local cable station. Just trying to pay the bills."

"And now you want to know how my son is, don't you? What part of personal and private didn't you get after the statement this morning?"

"Auggie, the concern is for the young man injured in the crash this morning. It's just a tragic coincidence that it's your son. "

"Well, then …" Auggie said. He didn't know if he wanted to believe Liza or not. He began, "The young man injured in the crash has serious, but so far non-life-threatening injuries. He has internal injuries and many broken bones. He's looking at many months of recovery and therapy, but he should survive." As often as he had to be before the cameras for work, Auggie was uncomfortable in talking to this reporter about Christopher.

"Can you comment on the rumor that your son has lost a leg?"

"No. I cannot comment on that. I will say that he has serious injuries to his legs that had to be surgically repaired. He'll be setting off the metal detectors when he flies back to school in the fall." Auggie forced the joke and a smile.

"Did he suffer a serious head trauma?"

"No. He has a mild concussion, but no serious brain injuries. A few bad cuts and lots of bruises, but nothing upstairs that's life altering."

"Your driver's here now. Thank you for your time, Auggie. I think this information will satisfy our concerned viewers."

"You're welcome," Auggie said automatically as he headed off in the direction of the very familiar voice of his favorite driver.

"Oh, Auggie," Liza called out after Auggie. "Off the record, I hope that your son going to be okay."

"Thanks," Auggie said as he got into the backseat of the car service SUV.

As they approached his house Auggie asked the driver, "Any signs of a news crew at the house?"

"No, sir. There are no vehicles parked on the street anywhere near your house. There is a strange car in the driveway, though."

"Just pull in behind that car. I know who it is."

After he'd pulled to a stop in the driveway, Auggie's driver commented, "If you get out on the right side all you have to do is trail to the front of the vehicle and you'll be right at your back stairs. What time do you want me in the morning?"

"Thanks, Jamal, but I'm not going to the office tomorrow," Auggie said as he prepared to get out of the car.

"I didn't think you would be, Mr. Anderson. What time do you want to head back to the hospital?"

Auggie shrugged his shoulders. "I'm so tired right now; I don't know when I might wake up. I'll just call the dispatcher …"

"I'll be here at 9:00 unless you call earlier. I doubt you'll sleep more than twelve hours. He's going to be all right," Jamal stated firmly.

"Thank you again, Jamal. Physically he'll heal okay, but … In the morning then." Auggie got out of the vehicle, mounted the stairs and opened the back door. Inside he took care of his phone, cane and keys on autopilot. From the family room he heard the sounds of the TV and nervous giggles. He crossed the kitchen to the family room doorway.

"Can ya keep it down in here?" He joked from the entryway, "I'd kinda like to get some sleep."

"Oh, hi, Dad," Corrine said. "Didn't hear you come in. I didn't think we were being that loud."

Auggie felt his daughter's arms wrap around him and her head rest against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the crown of her head. "You weren't really. I heard girlish giggles from in here. What's so funny?"

"Nothing really, Mr. Anderson," one of the Larsen twins said. "We got to wondering what Chris' treatment might be. We were reading some stuff on the Internet. There was a video that made us kinda uncomfortable. It was kinda funny and sad all at the same time."

"Chris has a long rough road ahead of him doesn't he?" the other Larsen girl asked.

Auggie gave a weary sigh. "I'm afraid so."

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><p><strong>Shorter than the others, but I thought this was a good place to leave off. I am not abandoning Christopher's story, I will revisit it in the future, but I need a bit of a break from it. There is more to his story and I will tell it, but I need something lighter to work on. I have a long list of other snippets of Annie's and Auggie's married life that I've been asked to touch on. Some earlier on the marriage timeline. Some later. We'll just have to see what the muse comes up with next. <strong>


	13. The Interrogation

**Something lighter, more classic Auggie today.**

**Thanks to Mandy58 for the story idea and for helping me polish it up.**

**The usual disclaimer - I don't own Annie, Auggie or Covert Affairs itself. I just like to picture Annie and Auggie at points in their future together.**

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><p>"I'll get the door, Dad," Corrine Anderson said rushing past her father in the hallway. "It's Jac."<p>

"Well, at least he knows enough to come to the front door on the first visit," August Anderson commented. "I'll meet this young man of yours in the family room."

As he moved off toward the room off the kitchen in the back of the house, Auggie heard his fifteen-year-old daughter excitedly greeting her young man in the foyer. What he didn't particularly care for was the sound of kissing. Hadn't it been just yesterday that he was welcoming his newborn daughter? And now today he was meeting her boyfriend. Where had the last fifteen years gone?

As Auggie passed through the kitchen the aromas of gorgonzola cheese, garlic, basil and fresh tomatoes combined in a heady mixture that had his mouth watering for whatever his wife was cooking for dinner. That Annie was actually cooking for tonight's guest and hadn't had her sister, Danielle, prepare something and bring it over pleased him. Annie was nearly as competent in the kitchen as her caterer sister when she put her mind to it. Now that the children were older she'd gotten back in the habit of cooking more than just simple stuff.

After he'd come in from work and changed out of his suit and into a comfortable pair of jeans and Henley shirt, Auggie had helped get things ready for Annie to cook. He'd diced the tomatoes, chopped up some fresh broccoli, and pounded chicken breasts flat. He'd half-heartedly protested, but in actuality had enjoyed helping with the food prep.

In the family room, Auggie sat in his favorite leather wingback chair. He'd been told he looked imposing when sitting there. Therefore, he'd chosen this seat over his usual spot on the sofa to begin the interrogation, um, getting-to-know conversation with this new boy person in his daughter's life. Mentally he went over the data that his researchers had come up with on Joshua Andrew Criswell. There were a couple of things about this young man that troubled him. Seriously troubled him. The young man was just barely sixteen and had a juvenile record that was impressive in a very negative way. Auggie tried to remind himself that record was earned in another city. And there were things in that dossier that were impressive in a good way, too. The young man deserved a chance. Auggie was willing to give him that and prayed that he'd just been a boy influenced by the wrong crowd rather than the instigator that the police reports tried to insinuate he was.

Auggie shifted in his seat, crossing his legs to look more casual. Soft jazz spilled from the speakers located throughout the main part of the house. In the dining room the table was set for just the four of them. Christopher was now in Illinois at Northwestern University. In the kitchen Auggie heard Corrine introducing her boy friend to Annie. Auggie cringed inwardly at the young man's greeting to Annie. Charming. Almost too suave. Auggie sighed and rolled his eyes. I was going to be a long evening he thought.

"Dad," Corrine said entering the room, "I'd like you to meet my friend Jac."

Auggie stood and offered his hand.

"Jac, this is my father, August Anderson."

"Nice meeting you, Mr. Anderson," the younger man said firmly shaking Auggie's hand. Auggie learned a great deal about the young man from the greeting. The younger man was strong and fit with calluses on his hand from lifting weights. He wasn't wearing any rings tonight but he usually did. And he was a shade less than six feet tall, and had a pleasant baritone voice. The inflection was from the Mid-West of the United States. There was something else in his voice that Auggie couldn't quite place from those few words.

"Nice to meet you, too, Jack," Auggie responded. "Jack, that's a name you don't hear much these days? Have a seat, please." Auggie settled back into the chair and crossed his legs again.

"Jac is a nickname. My given name is Joshua Andrew Criswell. J A C. Kid's here just started calling me that when we moved here. Everyone else calls me Josh."

"Which do you prefer?"

"I actually prefer Josh. But those around me insist on Jac," Joshua admitted shyly.

"Well, I will call you Josh. You can call me Mr. A. That's what the kid's friends mostly call us – Mr. and Mrs. A. … So, Josh, how do you like Langley High? Fitting in with your classmates okay?"

"It's okay. Not really that much different from the high school I came from back in Indianapolis. I guess it's okay. I've made a couple of friends that don't seem to be into drugs and alcohol."

"Do you have a problem with either of those?" Auggie asked casually.

"No. But I had … so-called friends … back in Indianapolis that did. I am so glad to be away from them," Joshua said boldly.

"So what do your parents do? What brought you to DC?"

"My dad works for the Department of Agriculture. He's an analyst for them. His promotion from the regional office in Indianapolis to a position here brought us here. Mom's still back in Indianapolis. They're divorced since I was young. Dad raised me. Mom got my younger sister. Mom's a professor at Butler University there. She teaches chemistry."

"Seems like you come from well-educated parents. Have you decided what you want to do with your life yet?"

"No. Not really. I thought I wanted to be a FBI agent, but not sure I can do that now. Guess I might just have to go on to college and see what shakes out." Joshua said conversationally.

A tiny smile lifted the corners of Auggie's lips. He'd finally placed the undercurrent in Joshua's voice. Fear. Actual fear – not just the nervousness of meeting the girl's parents, but deep in the gut fear.

"What did you figure out, Dad?" Corrine asked lightly.

"What makes you think I figured something out?" Auggie asked in surprise.

"You've had your 'I'm trying to figure something out' face on since I introduced you to Joshua. Just now you got your 'I've figured it out' grin."

"You can tell that?" Auggie questioned.

"It's subtle, but I can read you like a book, Dad. Been able to since I was little. Mom and Chris can read you, too."

"Oh. That explains a lot," Auggie said with dawning comprehension. "I'm not going to tell you what I figured out. But it was something good."

"You and your super hearing, Dad. No one can pull anything over on you," Corrine joked.

"Corry, I do not have super hearing. I just use it more. Have to in order to know what's going on. You know that."

"Whoa. What's this about your father's hearing, Corry?" Joshua asked with concern.

"Oh. You haven't figured it out yet, Josh? My Dad's blind," Corry admitted off-handedly.

"Corrine!" Auggie said sharply.

"Oh, Dad, it's not like I deliberately don't mention it. I just don't think about it. You're just my Dad," Corrine stated matter-of-factly.

Auggie chuckled softly. "Okay, Corry. I think I understand."

"Corry, would you come help me finish up supper, please," Annie called from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mom," Corrine said as she got up and headed to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson if I've said or done anything that I shouldn't have. I didn't know. I really didn't know," Joshua stammered.

"The only thing you've done is not be totally honest with me," Auggie said leaning forward a bit. "These might not work," he said pointing at his eyes, "but these," Auggie touched his ear, "now catch more than the eyes ever could. You are afraid of something. What?"

Over on the sofa Joshua fidgeted nervously and shrugged his shoulders.

"I heard that shrug of the shoulders, the fabric of your new shirt rustled a bit against your neck," Auggie said firmly. "And, that's not an answer."

"Have you always been blind?" Joshua asked curiously.

"No." Auggie said curtly. He thought for a brief moment – he knew that Joshua was trying to divert his attention – then continued more conversationally. "I was in the military and went to Iraq during that conflict in 2007. An explosion cost me my sight. Now, why are you afraid of me?"

"Mr. Anderson, I really like your daughter. She's such a free spirit, and funny. And smart. She's the smartest girl I've ever met. And the number of languages she knows blows my mind. You stand between me getting to know her better by seeing her places other than school. Wouldn't you be a bit frightened, too?"

"I have been, but that's nervous. This is more than that I'm hearing. But, supper is on the table, so we'll leave this for later." Auggie rose from the seat and walked, with a bit of a swagger, into the dining room. Unerringly he held the chair for Annie and then sat in his usual place to her right.

The conversation during the meal was light and varied. The more Corrine's boy friend talked, the more Auggie found himself liking the young man. He knew what Joshua didn't want to tell him, but his wanted to hear Joshua own up to what he'd done.

The dinner plates had been cleared, and the four of them were lingering over the desert when Auggie leaned across the table and asked Joshua, "Tell me who Joshua Andrew Criswell really is? We've seen the one that you want us – your girlfriend's parents – to see, but I'd like to know what you thought was wrong with the one that you show your peers? What's so wrong with that Joshua Criswell that he couldn't come meet the parents?"

"What do you mean, Mr. Anderson? This is who I am."

"Maybe. Underneath everything, but I think there are some notable differences between the young man that showed up on our door an hour or so ago and the one that everyone else sees at school. The hand that I shook usually wears rings; you're wearing a brand new shirt and fairly new leather shoes; and, you got a haircut or trim today. Why did you go to those lengths to impress us?" Auggie did not ask these questions harshly, but more in a curious vein.

"There you go with the shrugging again," Auggie said with more amusement than irritation.

"Dad. What's with the third degree?"

"Yes, dear. Like your daughter asked," Annie stated with a bit of firmness.

"This young man feels that he needs to hide something from us. That makes me uncomfortable. I have serious reservations about the suitability of this young man to date my daughter."

Across the table Corrine and Joshua whispered together earnestly. Finally Joshua spoke, "As I mentioned earlier, I chose to hang out with a group of older guys and their girlfriends. They were rebellious of parental influence and law enforcement. The smoked – both regular cigarettes and weed; they also did other drugs. I thought they were cool, and was honored that they let me hang out with them. One night we were riding around, getting high in a borrowed car. We were pulled over by the police. The car wasn't borrowed it had been stolen. There was a lot of drugs in the car, we were all charged with possession with intent to sell as well as grand theft auto. I've got a record Mr. Anderson."

Under the table Annie patted Auggie's thigh in a calming manner. "Anything else you want to get off your chest?" he asked casually.

"Yeah. That wasn't the first time for that, and I've got a few arrests for simple possession. And a couple of breaking and entering. I'm not proud of any of them. Mom's second husband is a lawyer. He got me out of the minor stuff; and a plea bargain for the last big one. I'm on probation and if I keep my nose clean between now and when I turn eighteen, my record will be wiped clean not just sealed. Dad took the job here to get me away from those bad influences and give me a chance to start fresh here. I'm trying, Mr. Anderson, to do just that. I've let my piercings close up. I've stopped wearing the rings and other jewelry that I used to wear. I'm changing the way I dress. Dad and I are bachelors and didn't get the laundry done this week, so Dad bought me a new shirt for tonight. My shoes are in sad shape so I borrowed a pair of Dad's. How did you know about the haircut?"

"I'm going to keep that trick a secret, Josh. And about half-way through telling us about your legal problems the quality in your voice that bothered me vanished. You were unconsciously relieved to get that information out in the open. And I believe that you are trying to live down the things you did in Indianapolis. I still have a bit of reservation about you dating my daughter, but I'll give you a chance. I remember being sixteen – I expect that you'll treat my daughter with respect."

"Yes, Sir, I will. I have a feeling that you could make my life even more miserable than it's been if you put your mind to it. I don't want to risk that," Joshua said with conviction.

Auggie heard the scurrying of feet and he braced himself for his daughter's hug he knew was coming. "Oh, Daddy, thank you," Corrine whispered as she wrapped her arms firmly around her father. Auggie hugged his daughter back with one arm as she brushed a kiss across his cheek. "I … we won't make you regret this decision."

* * *

><p><strong>Well? What did you think? No, for those of you wondering, I haven't abandoned Christoper's journey. Mandy had suggested this topic several times, so I thought I'd indulge her.<strong>

**A comment or two might be nice. **


	14. Date Night

**Another sweet story involving Auggie and one of his children. Scenario suggested by kkbug. Still working on Christopher's journey for those wanting to know how he turns out.**

**Although Mandy58 has looked this one over, any misspellings, syntax and punctuation errors are all my own. **

**Of Covert Affairs, the only things of it I own are an autographed script, a well watched season one DVD, and an autographed photo of Mr. Christopher Gorham. Anything else is simply a pipe dream.**

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><p>"Dad, the car's here for you," sixteen-year-old Christopher Anderson yelled from where he was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar on the island counter in the kitchen of his parents' suburban DC home. In the kitchen, his mother, Annie, grilled burgers on the indoor grill. After a few moments he hopped off the stool and headed into the front part of the house. He nearly collided with his father, August – Auggie to his friends – as he rounded the corner into the main hallway. "Car's here," he stated matter-of-factly.<p>

"I heard you, and the car, a few minutes ago, Auggie declared. "Is this thing straight? I can't tell," he asked tugging on the ends of his bowtie.

"Move your hands so I can see. … Yeah, it's straight," Christopher said. "Stop messing with it or it will be lopsided."

"Is your mother in the kitchen?"

"Yeah. Need her? I can go get her for you."

"Someone needs to go and get your sister out of the bathroom before we're late," Auggie said and sighed. "What is it with women primping until the last moment? Corry gets more like her mother every day." There was a tinge of exasperation in the last statement.

"I'm ready, Dad," thirteen-year-old Corrine Anderson said coming up behind her father. "And we women like to look our best for our favorite men."

"Let me look at you," Auggie said as Christopher retreated back to the kitchen area. He turned to face his daughter and slowly extended his hands until they brushed against her arms. His fingers ghosted up her arms and he frowned slightly when he found bare shoulders. Corrine's long hair was off her shoulders in a soft up-do. Auggie lightly fingered the dangling earrings. "You get prettier every day," he complimented softly.

"How do you know, Dad? You can't see me," Corrine said lightly.

"Oh, I know that you are. You're the prettiest girl I know next to your mother. You've got to be. You're my daughter," Auggie said quietly. "Our chariot awaits m'lady."

As her father pivoted to head into the back of the house, Corrine slipped her arm over her father's. Together they walked through the passage between the kitchen and the dining room to the back door.

"You have her home by curfew," Annie called from the kitchen.

"Yes, Ma'am," Auggie said as he closed the door behind them.

When they crossed the porch Corrine gasped. "A limo, Dad? Wow! We'll be the only one coming to this silly dance in style." She quickly removed her arm from her father's and extended it across his chest. When he stopped his forward motion, she stood on tiptoe and brushed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Dad."

"Anything for my best girl," Auggie whispered back.

When they were in the back of the Lincoln Town Car and on their way down the driveway, Auggie's hand brushed against the soft fabric of Corrine's dress. "What sort of fabric is this?" he asked taking a pinch of the fabric between thumb and forefinger. "I'm not familiar with it."

"It's silk chiffon, Dad. I liked the way the dress looked, and fit on me, even though Mom thought it was a bit too sophisticated for me."

"Your mother says that you look so grown-up in it and that the color flatters you. What color is it?"

"It's called Raspberry – sort of a pinkish red. Why do you want to know, Dad? I didn't think color meant anything to you anymore."

Auggie shrugged. "I still understand basic colors, but I don't know. Just making conversation I guess," he replied self-consciously. "Trying to take an interest in my very lovely daughter," he added.

Corrine placed her hand on top of her father's. "Thank you, Dad. But … comments about my looks coming from you don't mean a lot to me. I know that in your mind I'm the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world. In actuality, you have no idea what I look like. And that's okay, Dad. But your attempts to flatter me are a bit meaningless." She patted her father's hand reassuringly.

"You are only half correct, Corry. I may not know the minute details, but I do know that you are a very attractive young lady. When we are in public together I hear how other people speak to you. And of you. From our hugs I know how tall you are, and that you are fit and lean. I also know that nature has given you the figure now of an older teen. There are older boys and some men who I, on occasion, would like to kill because of the way they speak suggestively of you. Don't tell me I don't know that you are a beautiful young woman. I do," Auggie said firmly to his daughter. "Now, can we talk of other things?"

"Yes, Dad. I understand now," Corrine said demurely. "Where are we going to dinner? I do enjoy these one-on-one times with you, but tonight is extra special with the dance and all later."

"This evening we are going to J. Gilberts. A special treat for my best girl for her first boy-girl dance. Even if the boy is your father."

"Wow, Dad. You're doing this up first class tonight! If you're trying to make me feel special, you are doing a bang-up job of it." Corrine could barely contain her excitement.

"It's sort of a special evening for me, too. That you want to be seen in public with me, when that public is your peers, is sort of special. How many of your classmates are actually coming to this dance? I thought that at this age parents weren't to be associated with."

"Oh, Dad, you're being silly now. Some of us have parents that are still kinda okay. Like you … There's going to be about 200 people at the dance. I'm on the committee that planned it so I'm pretty sure of that number. That's how many paid tickets we issued. It's a fundraiser so that helped get kids on board with the idea of dancing with their parent."

"Or more the parents on board with dancing with their son or daughter," Auggie said and grinned.

"Either way, we're going to have fun tonight. I hope anyway," Corrine said.

"Even if it is you laughing at your dear old dad," Auggie said with amusement in his tone.

"Oh, Dad, what would I have to laugh at you about? … Oh. You can dance can't you?" Corrine asked with sudden alarm.

"Yes, I can dance. The slow ones anyway. I'm not too good with the modern ones," Auggie admitted with a bit of embarrassment.

"It's okay, Dad," Corrine replied. "The DJ promised to play lots of slow oldies so that you old people would be able to enjoy dancing, too." Corrine giggled a bit after her last statement.

"We're at the restaurant, Mr. Anderson," the driver stated as the vehicle pulled to a stop. The chauffeur held the car door for Auggie, who in turn offered a hand to Corrine as she exited the Town Car.

"Thank you, Jamal," Auggie spoke to the chauffeur, "We'll be about an hour I guess."

"I'll be here," Jamal said as he closed the car door.

Corrine brushed the back of her father's hand with hers and he lightly took her arm so that she could take the sighted lead for him. She was an experienced sighted guide for her father and he felt as comfortable with her as he did with Annie.

"Yes, Sir, may I help you?" the young hostess asked as soon as the pair had cleared the entranceway.

"Anderson. Reservation for two," Auggie announced with flair.

"Yes. Your table is ready. If you'll follow Brooke, she'll seat you," the hostess stated.

"Do you have a Braille menu?" Corrine asked the hostess before moving to follow Brooke.

"Huh? Braille menu? I don't know what that is," the young hostess replied.

"Yes, we do," an older male voice stated opening a door in the hostess stand. "Here Brooke."

"If you'll follow me," Brooke said as she moved off into the main seating area.

"Square four-top table," Corrine whispered as they approached the table. "Two adjacent places set up with tented napkin between the silverware; water and wine glasses in customary locations."

"You know the drill," Auggie whispered back.

Corrine placed her father's hand on the back of a chair. Auggie pulled it out and held it for his daughter, then, hand lightly brushing the table's edge, moved to the right and located his own seat. He then located the napkin and placed it on his lap, and held up his right hand. He was actually a bit surprised when his menu was brushed against his hand. Beside him Corrine reviewed her menu. After a few minutes Auggie asked, "What looks good?" as he read his menu.

"I'm going to get the prime rib," Corrine said after a few moments.

"That sounds good to me, too," Auggie said a moment later. "Salad or the vegetable blend?"

"Salad."

"Baked potato? Baked sweet potato? Mashed potato? Rice pilaf?"

"Oh, the loaded mashed sounds good," Corrine replied.

"Medium well on the prime rib?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Would you like to feel even more grown up with a virgin cocktail?"

"No, Dad. I'm good with an iced tea. But you can have your beer if you want."

Auggie cocked his head and pointed it in Corrine's direction. "You've been wanting one for the longest time, and now that I'll allow one …"

Corrine laughed. "I know. Just don't feel it tonight," she remarked.

"Okay."

A few minutes later a server stopped by the table, "I'm Craig, I'll be taking care of you this evening. May I take your drink requests?"

"The lady will have an iced tea no lemon. I'll have an Amstel."

"Very good, Sir. Do you know what you want for dinner or do you need a few more minutes?

"The lady will have the prime rib, medium well, loaded mashed potatoes, and salad with the house vinaigrette on the side. I'll have the same, but medium rare on the prime rib." He handed the menu in the general direction of the server.

"Thank you, Sir. I'll get your drinks to you and your salads shortly." He moved off.

"Now, Corry, what can you tell me about the theme of the dance. And why didn't your mother have to do this with Chris? Not that I mind. I always enjoy being able to spend time with you. I'm just sorry it doesn't happen more often these days."

"It's okay, Dad. Sometimes I do feel a bit ignored, so does Chris, but we both know it's not your choice that we don't have more time with you. It's the job. Both you and mom have important jobs in keeping our nation safe from those who want to harm us. Us as a nation and as a people. And those that want to harm us are not always in foreign countries." She took up her father's hand and squeezed it.

He squeezed back. When it kept him away from his family for extended periods of time he sometimes hated his new job. And lately with the continuing unrest in the Middle East and the budget talks on Capitol Hill the hours he spent in the office had been long and stress filled. Weeks ago he had blocked out the time from 4 PM on out on his calendar. His assistant was banned, under penalty of losing her job, from scheduling anything, or expecting him to be anywhere, during that time. He was NOT going to disappoint his daughter this evening. When he'd gotten home early this evening he could tell that Corrine was surprised. And pleased. Very pleased. Of course it now meant that he had a Saturday, 9 AM meeting with a very displeased Director of National Intelligence.

"The theme is classic oldies," Corrine began. "Popular groups and singers from 1960's to the 2000 teens. Some I've heard of like the Beatles, Eagles, Madonna, New Kids on the Block, Back Street Boys, Josh Groban, Lady Gaga. Some I've never heard of and can't remember. I think the DJ will play a good mix of danceable tunes – some fast, some slow. I hope so anyway. The dance wasn't my idea, but they made me chair of the planning group. I'm really kind of nervous about it," Corrine admitted.

"However it turns out, you've done your best. And your best is pretty darn good most of the time," Auggie complimented. "I don't tell either of my children often enough just how proud I am of them; but I am. I'm very proud of you, Corry."

"Aw, Dad. You're embarrassing me," Corrine said softly.

"I'm sorry, Corry. I don't mean to do that. I mean outside of the just being seen with me embarrassment."

"Dad, about that," Corrine started.

Craig brought their drinks and removed the wine glasses. A second server was behind him with the salads.

When the servers had gone, Corrine said, "You drink is at 1 o'clock in a pilsner glass. … Now about the embarrassment thing."

Auggie reached for his beer glass, fingers slightly curled until his knuckles brushed the cold glass. He wrapped his hand around the glass, brought it to his mouth and took a long drink. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know how big an embarrassment he was to his daughter.

"Dad, do you think that you're an embarrassment because you're my parent? Or because you're blind?"

"They're not mutually inclusive?" Auggie asked as he located and picked up his salad fork.

"No, Dad. They are not. One of you sometimes embarrasses me; the other one never has and never will."

Auggie paused with his fork full of salad part way to his mouth. "Which one isn't the embarrassment?"

"I'm never embarrassed because you're blind. You can't help that any more than you can help breathing. Yeah, there might be kids my age that might be embarrassed by that, but I'm not," Corrine said confidently. "Once in a while the parent makes me want to run and hide, but really not that often. You and mom aren't in the habit of saying or doing embarrassing stuff. Some of my friends even wish you were their parents."

Auggie finished his bite of salad. "Really?"

"Really, Dad."

That surprised Auggie. And pleased him. He remembered being constantly embarrassed at thirteen to be seen in the company of his parents. And that his being blind wasn't a source of embarrassment pleased him most of all.

The rest of the dinner went by smoothly. Conversation ranged from the normal goings on at school to ridiculous 'what if' scenarios. At one point Auggie began to speak in very rusty Arabic and Corrine slipped into that language without batting an eye. She laughed at him when he had trouble coming up with the right word or inflection and he laughed right along with her.

When dinner was over, including a shared slice of cheesecake, Corrine discretely assisted her father in calculating the tip and total and in signing the credit card slip.

After they exited the restaurant Corrine stated, "The car and driver are here waiting for us."

"Oh? Okay then. Let's go and dance," Auggie stated lightly.

As they were pulling into the drive of Cooper Middle School, Corrine exclaimed, "We're going to make a grand entrance, Dad! There are lots of people arriving now, too."

"You know, I didn't use the car service so you can make an entrance, Corry," Auggie cautioned.

"I know, Dad. But it's still kinda neat," Corrine said a bit more soberly.

As the driver opened the car door for them Auggie allowed a small grin to flash across his lips. He hadn't needed to hire the car for this evening, Annie had offered to chauffeur over and to come and get them afterwards, but he had hired the car and specified the Town Car just so that Corrine would feel special tonight. And if making a splashy entrance helped make her feel special …

A variety of greetings to Corrine met Auggie's ears as they exited the car; most were along the lines of 'Way to make an entrance, Corry!'. This made the pleased grin flitter back across Auggie's features.

Once inside the gym, Corrine guided Auggie to one of the large round tables scattered around the perimeter of the gym floor. Corrine's best friend, Cassie Mayhew, and her father, Drew, were already seated there. Her other girlfriend, Holly Stevens, and her father, Charles, arrived shortly after Corrine and Auggie were settled in. Introductions were not needed; the three men were familiar with each other from their daughters' soccer games. The three men fell into easy conversation as their daughters chattered away.

"Okay, kids, grab your parent and come out to the dance floor," the female DJ announced a few minutes later. "I've got a nice slow tune ready for your first dance; a tune that was an oldie when most of your parents were young – the Eagles, 'Best of My Love.'

Corrine grabbed her father's hand and they moved to center court on the gym floor. As he gathered his daughter up in the traditional dance pose, Auggie whispered, "Just don't let me run us into anyone or anything."

"I won't, Dad," Corrine whispered back as the music began. For the next four minutes Auggie gracefully steered his daughter around the makeshift dance floor.

"That was much more enjoyable than I thought it would be," Corrine remarked as she led her father back to the table.

"I'm glad," Auggie commented. "Those dance lessons I paid for finally come in handy."

"You took dance lessons?" Corrine asked in surprise.

"Long time ago; but I was mostly commenting on the ones that I paid for. You're a very graceful dancer."

"You're not bad yourself."

"It's been a while since your mother and I've been dancing, but I used to be able to bust a few moves on the dance floor."

Auggie sat out the next few dances – faster ones for the kids – then danced with Corrine for the next slower one. That set up the pattern for the evening: dance one, sit out one or two and chatting with the other parents. He did join in on the Macarena but that was the extent to his participation in the faster dances. That is until the DJ announced she was going to play the Lionel Richie song 'Dancing on the Ceiling'.

Auggie leaned over and asked Corrine, "Did they teach you rock and roll or swing moves in those dance lessons you took?"

"Yeah," Corrine said. "I can do that kind of dancing. Why?"

"I'd like to dance this one with you. Show you another side of your dad."

"I'm game," Corrine encouraged as she tugged on her father's arm.

"Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand," Auggie cautioned his daughter.

"I won't," Corrine assured.

About a minute-and-a-half into the dance that was full of swing moves and spins, Auggie became aware that the only sounds in the gym were those of his and Corrine's feet and breaths, and the music. He understood that he and his daughter were suddenly the center of attention. That did not bother him; he just hoped that he wasn't embarrassing Corrine too much. As he ended the dance with a flashy dip, the crowd erupted in a short burst of applause.

"Corry?" Auggie asked as he followed her lead off the floor.

"Oh, Daddy, that was wonderful! I had no idea that you could dance like that. I guess no one else did either. Everyone cleared the floor for us and was watching only us. That was awesome," Corrine replied excitedly.

"You're not embarrassed?"

"Not at all," Corrine replied as she squeezed her father's hand. "It was actually kinda cool."

As Corrine placed his hand on the back of the chair, someone firmly patted Auggie on the back. "Way to show the rest of us up, old man," Charles Stevens teased. "Who knew that a person of our advanced age could move like that?"

"Well, Chuck, you'd be surprised what moves this old body still has in it. If Corry's game, we might just do that again in a few minutes," Auggie confessed lightly as he settled into his seat at the table.

A few songs later, when the DJ announced Michael Jackson's 'Billy Jean', Corrine tugged on her father's arm. "C'mon, Dad. Let's swing dance again. That was fun."

"Okay," Auggie said as he rose from his seat and followed his daughter onto center court again.

For the next five minutes the pair danced their hearts out. This time they were joined by a few other couples. By the end of the song Auggie was slightly out of breath.

"Oh, Dad, that was even better than the first one," Corrine commented on their way back to the table and her girlfriends.

"One last slow dance is all your Dad, has left in him," Auggie reluctantly admitted.

"I'm getting tired, too," Corrine acknowledged. "The time for the dance to end is getting close," she added a few moments later.

Auggie took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and put the Bluetooth headset into his ear. "Damn," he muttered under his breath moments.

Corrine leaned toward her father. "Dad?"

"Time for a new phone I guess," he whispered disgustedly. "VoiceOver shut itself off again." He ripped the headset off his ear and began to shove it and the phone back into his pocket. Corrine gently took the phone from his hands.

"Mom? Or car service?"

Auggie sighed. "Car service. I was going to text them to come back in about twenty minutes."

A few moments later Corrine simply said, "Done and acknowledged." She wrapped her father's hand around his phone.

As he put the phone in his pocket, the opening strains of Cher's 'If I Could Turn Back Time' reached his ears.

"_If I could turn back time; If I could find a way I'd take back those words that hurt you and you'd stay_

I don't know why I did the things I did I don't know why I said the things I said; Pride's like a knife it can cut deep inside; Words are like weapons they wound sometimes."

Auggie closed his eyes and listened to the words. It had once, before jazz had become his music of choice, been a favorite oldie.

"Dad?"

He put his finger to his lips.

When the song ended, Corrine asked, "Do you ever wish you could do that?"

"Do what?"

"Turn back time," she stated pensively.

"Before I married your mother there were a few times that I regretted an ended relationship. That's part of life, Corry. But that stopped when your mother said that she'd marry me. And there will always be times when we'd like to take back something we've said," he said contemplatively.

Another faster dance, then the DJ announced, "Okay, boys and girls, grab the parent. It's time for the last dance. A slow one. It's by a couple of moderately know singers from the 1980's, Don Henley with Bruce Hornsby. The title is 'The End of the Innocence'. In a few weeks you'll be leaving the halls of middle school. I thought that some of the lyrics are appropriate to this time in your lives."

Moments later the song began and Auggie took his daughter tenderly into his arms and danced with her for what he thought would probably be the last time until he danced with her at some point in the far away future at her wedding – if they even had weddings in the future.

At the end of the dance Auggie bent his head enough to softly kiss Corrine on the forehead. "Thank you for the dance m'lady. Our chariot should be awaiting us. Shall we bid our adieu to those we shared a table with and head for home? … Or do you have to hang around to supervise the cleanup?"

"I just helped plan the details. The cleanup committee gets to stay late and put everything back where it belongs."

"Okay, then," Auggie said, "shall we head for home? … Hey, how about running through DQ and getting some ice cream?"

"As tempting as ice cream sounds, I'm ready to go home now. We have ice cream in the freezer if you really need some," Corrine advised.

After finding and saying good-bye to the Stevens and the Mayhews, and a couple of other parent-child pairings, Corrine led her father down the main hallway and out to the waiting car.

Partway down the main walkway from the school, Corrine reached up and stopped her father. She moved to stand in front of him. "Daddy, thank you for a wonderful evening. I know you dropped a lot of money on the car and dinner. You really didn't have to do that. But that you wanted to make this evening extra special for me ... I'll remember tonight forever. I love you, Daddy." She rose up on tiptoe and brushed a quick kiss on his cheek.

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><p><strong>Sorry, no mushy stuff between Annie and Auggie. I'm working on that, too. <strong>

**Did you like this one? Too saccharine sweet? Comment? Comments encourage the muse. **


	15. Life As I Knew It

**This is the last of the truly 'Christopher's Journey' stories. Oh, he'll be featured again, but in different settings.**

**The comments on the last story blew me away. Thank you so very much for those. I thought you'd like the daddy-daughter date. It was fun to write. **

**I had a PM comment that has me both thrilled and trembling. A person, who will remain nameless, mentioned that she was beginning to see my married Annie/Auggie stories as cannon. That's nice, but it's also A LOT of pressure to get it right. **

**Mandy has had her say - which she admits was not much this time through.**

**Once again, I don't own the shown on which these far-in-the-future of the show characters are derived.**

* * *

><p>As Annie Anderson walked down the hospital corridor, she was surprised, and very, very pleased, to hear laughter coming from her son's room. What pleased her most was the sound of her son's laugh amongst those of his friends. Christopher hadn't genuinely laughed since the accident that had cost him most of his left leg below the knee ten days ago. She stopped outside the door and listened to a bit of the conversation within her son's hospital room.<p>

"Bex, stop making me laugh. It still hurts to do that," Christopher Anderson said between giggles.

"Sorry, but you're being silly," Rebecca Larsen said with a bit of seriousness.

"I am not being silly. I'm just stating the facts, ma'am," Christopher retorted casually.

"Chris, I have to agree with Bex, here. You are being silly," Harrison Jahn said seriously. "That avatar doesn't look a thing like you. You can use it, but don't call it that. That's an insult to the avatar."

Annie pushed the door the rest of the way open and entered the room. The sight before her pleased Annie almost as much as hearing her son's laughter had done a few minutes before: Rebecca sat beside Christopher with her left foot on the floor and her right leg laying beside Christopher's left leg. His residual limb rested on her lower leg. Neither seemed to notice. Or if they had it didn't bother either one of them. _Refreshing,_ Annie thought.

Christopher had made great mental attitude strides since the day that he'd been transferred out of ICU and Harrison, Rebecca and Crystal had barged in to his room, over his objections and the nurses' initial dismay. One again her husband had been right – Christopher did need his friends around. And Auggie had coached them well, too. Their relationship to her son had not changed one bit. Well, that wasn't quite true, they'd become even more irreverent about what they perceived to be her son's new weaknesses. She'd been appalled at first at what she saw as extreme insensitivity, but Auggie had only smiled and joined in. His father's first quip had, at first, shocked Christopher but an amused grin had slowly crept across his lips a few moments later. She still couldn't bring herself to joke about his missing leg.

Harrison sat in the recliner and Crystal Larsen, Rebecca's twin, sat on the chair's arm with her arm loosely draped over Harrison's shoulders a tablet computer in her other hand.

"Hi, guys," Annie said as she approached the hospital bed. The four young people looked up from their tablet computers.

"Hi, Mom," Chris greeted and then returned his attention to the computer he held gingerly in his right hand.

"Hi, Mrs. A.," the others greeted and turned back to their own computers.

"What has all of you so engrossed?" Annie asked as she pulled up the metal chair from the wall near the doorway.

"A new multi-player computer game," Harrison relayed. "Crys and I are trying to capture and kill Bex and Chris. Even though Chris made his avatar one-legged and on crutches, they are kicking our butts."

"Oh. That's nice," Annie commented distractedly. At the moment she felt a bit like an unwelcomed remnant of food stuck between one's teeth. Her and Auggie's presence had been requested at this hour and here she was. Auggie had not been able to get away from Langley on such short notice. If she hadn't been married to the DDI she might not have been able to get off herself. But her – make that their – son was a priority.

She watched as the young people played their game, oblivious to her continued presence. She was enjoying watching her son and his best girl buddy – or should that be girlfriend? – sitting close as if there was nothing wrong. He needed this time to just be a regular nineteen-year-old.

"That's it," Christopher exclaimed excitedly. "Team Gimp has annihilated Team Normie! Yes!" Christopher set his computer aside and looked in horror at the position of his left leg. Self-consciously he shifted his position in order to move his leg away from Rebecca. The faintest flicker of sadness crossed Rebecca's features.

"Want to have another go at it, Chris? Bex?" Harrison asked.

"Well, it's the middle of the afternoon and Mom's here, so maybe not right now. … Mom, why ARE you here now?" Christopher asked looking at his mother with a puzzled look.

"One of your nurses called this morning and requested that we be here about this time. Something was said about a discharge plan," Annie relayed.

"I might get to go home soon?" Christopher asked excitedly.

"Oh, eventually you'll be home, but I can't see how that can be this soon. You still need so much help doing things. I don't know if I can get the time off to be home with you. I know your dad can't."

"I'll stay with him," Rebecca interjected eagerly.

"That's sweet of you to offer, Bex, but …" Annie began.

"NO!" Christopher stated firmly. "Bex, you have plans for this summer. I don't want you to change them because of me. I've enjoyed your company the last few days, but you've got those summer classes you were going to take to raise your GPA. Your long-term future is more important than my short-term need. Just because my summer's ruined doesn't mean yours has to be, too."

"Chris …"

"No, Bex. Don't whine or plead. I'm not budging on this! You can come over after class. I can help you study, but your 'rents will not be happy if you don't finish your degree on time. I don't want to be a part of that."

Rebecca huffed in indignation. "Okay," she said softly, and grasped Christopher's left hand giving it a firm squeeze. A look passed between them that Annie couldn't quite place.

There was a knock on the door to the room, and Dr. Peterson and a couple of nurses entered. He quickly surveyed the room. "Mrs. Anderson has to stay, the rest of you … out." He gestured with his thumb.

Rebecca slid off the bed and Christopher moved as if to follow her.

"Oh, no you don't wise guy. You stay put. I'm hopefully going to be removing the staples holding your incisions together. It's your friends that need to leave," the doctor said.

"Can Bex stay? If she wants to that is," Christopher questioned firmly.

"It's okay, Chris. I don't have to stay. I'll be right back as soon as I can."

"Don't want to stay and see the aftermath?" Christopher asked unhappily.

"You know that's not true. I've been here at bandage change time. The looks of your altered body doesn't bother me as much as it bothers you. You're the one that's hung up about that. What's happened to your body hasn't changed who you are underneath it all. Not the person that's in here," she said touching his chest. "I don't like you because you have a great body. I like you because you are a great person. The body's still pretty great now, too," Rebecca leaned in and whispered.

"You mean that, don't you?" Christopher said with astonishment.

"Yes, I do," Rebecca said leaning in farther and giving Christopher a kiss on the cheek. "They want to talk to you and your mom. I'll be back in a little while."

"Okay," Christopher reluctantly said. He held on to Rebecca's hand as long as he could as she joined her sister and Harrison in leaving the room.

"Mrs. Anderson it wasn't me that asked you here today, but I am glad that you are. Sometimes it's a bit uncomfortable for the patient when the staples or stitches are removed. He might need a hand to squeeze," Dr. Peterson said and smiled. "Where do you want me to start? Right? Or left?"

"Right, I guess," Christopher said glumly.

Annie moved to the recliner seat edge and offered her hand to her son. She watched her son grimace and felt his firm squeezes to her hand as the dozens of staples were removed from his right leg. She even managed a glance at her son's unbandaged leg. It didn't look nearly as bad as she had envisioned. The wounds were not as many, nor as jagged as she had feared. The doctor had done a nice job of pulling the wounds closed. There would be scars but not angry, jagged ones.

The doctor asked Christopher to roll over onto his stomach and Christopher complied with a bit of difficulty. Annie grasped his right hand. The arm was now encased in a regular hard fiberglass cast. She watched his face once again as the staples were removed from the incision on his residual limb. This time it wavered between sad and confused.

"What's wrong, Chris? You look confused," Annie asked quietly.

"It feels like the staples are being removed from a part of my leg that I know I don't have any more. It's confusing," Christopher replied. He grimaced strongly. "Damn, that hurt. A lot. How many more do you have to take out?"

"That was the last one," Dr, Peterson said. "The other thing you mentioned is called 'Phantom Limb'. It's present in about half of all amputations. It might lessen over time. Or it might not. The brain is still interpreting signals as coming from the missing part of the arm or leg. Your PT or prosthetist can give you techniques for dealing with it if it gets too bad for you."

"Thought that it was just me," Christopher confided. "Glad to know I'm not going crazy."

"Nope, not just you," the doctor said casually. "You can roll back over now. Do you or your mother have any questions for me? Christopher, my nurse is going to rewrap your residual limb. You are going to have to pay attention to what she's doing. You're going to have to do that every day until you get your prosthesis. And that's not going to happen for a few months."

"In the meantime, what's Chris going to do? I want him home, but how's he going to get around?"

"I've authorized a wheelchair for him," the doctor said.

"And it's my job to figure out how we're going to get this young man out of this hospital and into another environment conducive to his healing and getting back on his feet," a middle-aged woman in slacks and a knit top said as she came into the room. "I'm Connie Baker, the hospital social worker assigned to Christopher Anderson's discharge plan. We have several options, none of which are optimal for a young man."

"You mean getting back on my foot, don't you?" Christopher snapped. His eyes had gone hard and cold. "What are my options?"

The doctor slipped out, leaving the nurse wrapping an elastic bandage in a figure eight around Christopher's residual limb. He wasn't paying any attention to what the nurse was doing. He'd flopped back onto the pillows and was staring at the social worker.

"Well, you're not quite ready for the rehabilitation floor until you get the cast off your arm, so that's where you'd normally go. The other two options are at the short-term wing of a skilled nursing center, or we get a hospital bed into your house with a part-time aide to help your parents care for you there. But until I see your house, I'm not sure if that's even an option. That's what I'm here to discuss. Do you even want to try for that?"

"Yes!" Annie and Christopher exclaimed in near unison.

"Okay. We'll see if we can make that happen. Mrs. Anderson, will there be anyone at the house tomorrow around 2:00-2:30? I'd like to check out the house with one of the physical therapists. How willing might you be to put some of your furniture into storage for a few months?" the social worker asked.

"If it means that Chris can be with us, we'll do whatever it takes to do that. I'll make sure that someone is there at that time," Annie stated firmly. Mentally she was already taking stock of what might need to be done.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Corrine's number. "Corry. What's going on with you tomorrow afternoon? … Good, I need you to be home between 2:00 and 3:00. Someone will be coming by to check the house to see if we can get Chris home soon. … Yeah, that will be nice. Thanks honey. I'll be home a little early. Not sure about when Dad can get away to come home."

# # # # #

Annie came in the back door to a scene that warmed her heart – Christopher rummaging in the refrigerator. He was in a wheelchair and Harrison leaned against the island counter, but it seemed more like what nineteen-year-old boys should be doing on summer break. One thing was very different about her son that she wasn't quite sure she liked – he was completely bald and the gash in his head blushed red against the pale skin of her son's scalp and the bruises were in the yellowish brown stage of healing.

"What happened to your hair, Chris?" Annie asked as she deposited her keys on the table beside the back door.

"That's my fault, Mrs. A.," Harrison said quickly. "Chris was upset with the bare patch around the gash on his head. I borrowed my mom's clippers and shaved his whole head this afternoon …"

"It'll grow back, Mom," Christopher interjected firmly. "I don't like the look on me, but it's better than the half bare, half hair thing I had going."

"I'm not upset, it just that I've never seen you without hair. Even as a baby you had full head of it. You're right, it'll grow back. Just shows off your bruises more. I didn't realize you had so many."

The young men seemed to relax a bit. Christopher closed the refrigerator door and began to wheel himself over to the dining room table his lap full of the makings for sandwiches.

Annie looked around in dismay, "Where's the aide that's supposed to be with you?"

Chris paused in mid-push, "I sent him home about an hour ago. Harrison was here. He's almost more help than the aide is. Rodney just sits in the damn chair and stares at me while I lounge in the damn hospital bed. Gives me the creeps."

"Christopher!" Annie exclaimed sharply. "It is not your place to dismiss the aide. The insurance insists on it or they won't pay for the rest of the stuff that makes it possible for you to be here and not somewhere else while you get strong enough for the rehab place. Did he at least help you wash up, and those kinds of things?"

"Yes. He's not a total waste of space. He helped me get dressed and made me do the exercises the PT told me to do."

"Where's Corry?"

"I don't know. I'm not her keeper. I've got enough problems without having to keep track of her, too. She stormed out of here about the same time that I sent Rodney home. She said something about Josh. I don't know if she was fighting with him or going over to see him."

"I was fighting with him," Corrine said as she came in the back door.

"Where have you been?" Christopher demanded. "I'm not exactly able to run after you like I once did," he said pivoting the wheelchair.

"I've been out in the garage practicing my clarinet. It's hard work keeping first chair," Corrine rejoined.

"Corrine, we don't expect …" Annie began.

"I know, Mom. But I expect it of me. I want to be able to put that on my college application if I decide to major in music instead of linguistics. Anyway, playing helps me calm down. Especially if I go off on a tangent and play some jazz. And Chris, if you'd just opened the back door you would have known where I was. You lost your leg, not your hearing," Corrine said over her shoulder as she headed into the front part of the house.

Annie couldn't help but smile a bit at the interaction between her children. She walked past Harrison and patted him on the shoulder. "Go ahead," she said, "make yourself a sandwich. Growing boys and all that."

"I feel guilty about eating all your food. Normally Chris would be at my house as much as I'm over here and it would all average out."

"It's okay, Harrison. We're glad to have you here. For the third time this week, make yourself at home," Annie said as she headed on down the hall. She came back into the dining room ten minutes later in jeans and a T-shirt to find the two boys sitting at the dining room table wolfing down a sandwich and some potato chips and dip.

"Mom, Harrison's got something he wants to ask you," Christopher said as soon as he saw his mother returning to the room. Harrison glared at him.

"What is it, Harrison?" Annie asked as she pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat down across the table from the two young men.

"It's been almost a month since Chris got hurt. He's either been in the hospital or here ever since. The guys have come by and all that, but there's a summer pool party tonight at David's. I've worked out the logistics and I can get Chris to my car and to the back of David's house without much trouble. And once he's there Chris will have no problem maneuvering in the wheelchair …"

"And you want my blessing for Chris to go?" Annie interrupted.

"Something like that, Mom." Christopher admitted and popped a dip-laden chip into his mouth.

"Will there be girls at this party? Will there be any truly adult supervision? Will there be drugs or hard alcohol?" Annie asked firmly.

"Why all the questions, Mom?" Christopher asked pointedly. "Why now? You've never asked before."

"Things are a little different now than before. I've always suspected the drinking, but …"

"It's okay, Mom," Chris said. "There will be girls there. Bex and Crys maybe there; they might not, but there will be other girls. There's never been any drugs. And not much hard liquor. Mostly just beer."

"Harrison," Annie said looking sternly at her son's best friend, "I will hold you responsible if anything happens to Chris tonight. Because of some of the medications he's still taking he really shouldn't drink tonight – not even a beer."

"I know, Mom," Christopher stated exasperatedly. "I don't usually anyway, And I'll not stay out too late. I just want to be somewhere else for a little while. I just want to feel normal for a little bit, not like a damn invalid." There was a tinge of emotion to his voice.

"Harrison, will you be staying for supper? Or do you have to put in an appearance at your house tonight before you go to the party?" Annie asked as she rose from her seat.

"If you're cookin', Mrs. A. I'm staying here," Harrison said with a smile.

# # # # #

It had been a long week, all that Auggie had on his mind as he rode home in the car service vehicle was getting out of his suit and tie and having a nice cold beer. And in exactly that order – change clothes and have a beer. It was only mid-afternoon on a Friday, but Auggie figured he'd stayed late enough this week that he deserved to leave the office early.

The driver was not his usual one and had let him out at the end of the driveway instead of pulling in and letting his passenger out at the back steps. After working his way up the drive and the back steps, Auggie opened the back door. He didn't know whether to be pleased or pissed at the sounds coming from Christopher's make-shift bedroom in what was supposed to be the living room. The sounds were those of a young couple clearly in the throes of passion.

Knowing that there was no way he could get to his bedroom without alerting the young couple that he was home, he went into the family room and settled into his recliner. A good bit later he heard bare feet entering the kitchen. He rose from his seat and began to head off into the other part of the house.

"Oh, my god," Rebecca Larsen exclaimed. "How long have you been home, Mr. Anderson?"

Auggie winked in her direction. "Long enough," he said simply as he headed down the hallway into his bedroom finally. Rebecca scurried back into the living room. As he changed out of his suit into more casual attire, Auggie heard the back door open and slam shut; and a car start up and leave the driveway hurriedly.

As he passed by the living room Christopher called to him. "Dad, what did you say to Bex? She went into the kitchen to get us something to drink, then rushed back in here, grabbed her purse and left."

"I believe that I may have embarrassed her. I've been home for a while. Do we need to have a talk about responsibility and respect?"

"Oh," Christopher said with clear embarrassment. "No, we don't need that talk, Dad. It's not my first time, but it was the first time with Bex. Now, I'm left wondering if Bex respects me. I have a feeling we just had 'pity sex'. She can be so very seductive, creative and demanding. She was very demanding."

"You need to work that one out for yourself. I'm all too familiar with 'pity sex'. Despite all the Anderson charm and charisma I had my share of that in the early days after I was blinded. … But, somehow, I do not feel that's the case with Bex."

"You don't?"

"No, son. Bex is the real deal. I've been telling your mother for years that the two of you are going to get married one day."

"Really, Dad. Bex is my best friend beside Harrison. I don't think of her romantically."

"Best friends make the best lovers," Auggie replied knowingly as he moved off to the kitchen to finally get his beer.

# # # # #

"Well, Mr. Anderson, I see you've made it back here this morning without casts. Will you be doing the in-patient therapy? Or will you be commuting daily?" the PT asked as Christopher and Annie sat before her in the corner of the therapy room.

"In-patient. The logistics of the commuting didn't work," Christopher stated firmly.

"And the insurance …"

"Oh, I understand all about the insurance game. I'm glad that Mr. Anderson will be here in-patient. We can accomplish more in less time this way. … What are your goals, Christopher?"

"Long term I want to get my prosthesis and get on with my life. Short term I have to be mobile enough so that I can navigate the campus of Northwestern University in Illinois by the end of August. I don't care if I'm still in the wheelchair, but I've got to be ready to go back to class then. I can't miss a semester. I'm missing my summer classes, so I'll have to double up in the spring."

"You can miss a semester," Annie began.

"No, Mom. I can't. Bex transferred in from Georgetown. She just told me last Friday. I've got to be back there for her. She transferred to be with me …"

Annie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them she looked at the therapist. "Is that doable?"

"Yes, it's very doable. We might even have Christopher up on crutches most of the time by then. I don't think he'll have his prosthesis before then, but there's a classmate of mine in that area that I'd be more than comfortable in referring Christopher to for the last bit of his therapy. And there are several very good prosthetists there, too. We'll get you all fixed up. Now, Mrs. Anderson, do you have any questions or immediate concerns about your son's therapy?"

"Just a couple then I've got to get on to work," Annie replied looking around the room at the other therapists working with patients. "What kind of schedule will Chris be on? When can we come and visit?"

"Family is welcomed to come and check out what their family member is doing anytime. From 8 AM to noon, and from 1 PM to around 4-4:30 every weekday he'll be in intensive training. Strengthening and retraining muscles needed to effectively operate the prosthesis. Your son is one up on most of the BK – that's below knee – amputees I get. He's young and basically physically fit. He also seems to be highly motivated. One of the first things we're going to work on is transfers from one surface to the wheelchair and from wheelchair to other surfaces without needing to put too much weight on the right leg. The cast may be off but those bones are still not strong enough to take his full weight yet. He's got what's called a walking boot, but he's a long way from being able to walk on it yet. By the end of the year, hopefully by Thanksgiving, you'll have your prosthesis and be walking independently. Might have a brace of some sort on the right, but you'll have pretty full mobility by then. Maybe a cane, but the crutches and wheelchair should be things of the past. It would be a lot sooner if we didn't have the right leg to worry about, too. But, we do. We'll get you there. It's not going to happen overnight, but you'll walk again; maybe even run a marathon if you're into that sort of thing."

"I had been training for one before I got hurt," Christopher acknowledged. "You really think I can do that again?"

"I've had patients do that. There's a lot of opportunity these days for disabled athletes. World-class athletes have the Paralympics. They're held every four years just like the regular Olympics and often at the same venues. There's wheelchair basketball, tennis and other sports, too. They can be very competitive and intense. The biggest limitations you'll have are the ones you place on yourself."

"Really? I thought life as I knew it was over," Christopher said and laughed cynically.

It was obvious to Annie that the therapist didn't quite know how to take that comment from Christopher.

"It's probably not in my medical or social history. Or if it is, you might have skimmed over it. My father's blind. I know all about limitations and challenges. Other people have tried to put limitations on my father and he's gone on to prove them wrong time and time again. He was a covert spy for the CIA even after he was blinded on duty. Now he practically runs the agency. Don't tell me about limitations. I'm ready for whatever challenge you have for me. Bring it on. I'm ready."

# # # # #

It was Thursday. Christopher had been at the in-patient rehab facility for three days and no one had heard a word from him. Calls to his cell phone went straight to voicemail and were not returned. A call to the facility received similar treatment. Auggie remembered rehab. Rehab was rough – you had to face more than the loss of whatever you'd lost. It dredged up feelings you thought you'd already dealt with on a daily basis – there was grief for the missing body part or sense, but there was also fear, anger, frustration, and despair. So far he'd seen none of those from Christopher; and, frankly, he was worried. You could keep those emotions bottled up for just so long before the dam burst. But there was an even worse mistress than any of those. Her name was denial. You could go for a lifetime denying stuff existed – that didn't mean it didn't exist; it just meant you refused to acknowledge it. It worked. Sometimes. But it was not healthy. He'd take a burst dam over denial any day. Now, he was on a mission to find out just where his son stood. Was Christopher in denial; or had his dam burst and he was facing his challenges?

Rather than going straight home as he usually did, Auggie had his usual driver take him to the rehabilitation facility. Jamal parked and escorted Auggie to the front reception desk.

"Thanks, Jamal," Auggie said as the receptionist greeted them. "I'll call the service when I'm ready to head home, if Annie hasn't come by to get me."

"Let me see your phone, Boss," Jamal stated firmly. He took the phone from Auggie when Auggie pulled it from his pocket. "This your phone or the work phone?"

"Mine. Why?"

Jamal did not answer for a few moments. "Don't call the service. Call me. I just put my number in there for you. It's just there as Jamal. I'll hang around for a few then go get myself some supper somewhere close-by."

"Look. You don't need to do that," Auggie said firmly. Jamal patted him on the shoulder.

"I know I don't need to do it for you. I need to do this for me. These last few weeks has been rough on you. I don't mean the BS from Capitol Hill. Your personal life worrying about your son – it's taken a toll on you. I would be a sorry excuse of a human being if I just dropped you off here and left you not knowing if you're going to get the answer you seek. If it's good news, I'll take you home and you can celebrate. If you don't get the news you want, I'll take you to the nearest bar and let you tip a few before I take you home. That's the way it's going to be tonight. Got that?" Jamal stated firmly. His tone left no room for dissent.

"Thanks," Auggie said clasping his hand over Jamal's as Jamal placed the phone back in his hand. Moments later Auggie pocketed his phone and turned to the receptionist. "I'm looking for Christopher Anderson. I'm his father."

"Christopher is in patient room 135. I'll have someone take you there in a minute. But he's probably still in the gym. His therapist is working with him a bit harder than normal. She doesn't usually let him off until closer to 4:30. It's just 4:20 now."

"If you'll give me the directions I can take Mr. Anderson back to his son's room," Jamal offered.

"Straight back on the corridor behind me. Second corridor to the left and then the third room on the right," the receptionist explained

"Come on, Boss," Jamal said touching Auggie's arm.

"Thanks. But no thanks. That's straight forward enough that I can do that on my own," Auggie said as he began to work his way around the receptionist's desk.

"If you count doors, it's actually the fifth door on the right. There's two utility closets before the patient rooms begin on that wing," the receptionist added.

"Thanks," Auggie said as he moved on down the corridor. He'd just passed the first corridor to the left when he heard a familiar voice.

"Dad. What are you doing here?" Christopher asked as he came out of the first corridor.

"I've come to visit my son," Auggie said simply. "That's allowed isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it's okay," Christopher admitted jokingly. "Put your hand on my shoulder and I'll guide you the rest of the way to my room."

Auggie reached to his left and after a moment's awkwardness found his son's shoulder.

"How've the last couple of days gone, Chris?" Auggie asked as he followed his son down the hallway.

"They've been grueling, Dad," Christopher admitted and sighed. "I've never worked so hard in my whole life. I'm physically spent right now. Step behind me Dad, we're at my room and the doorway won't fit both of us side by side. There's a chair, about five feet away, to the left once you're inside."

Auggie followed his son into the room, located the chair and sat down. "Being tired, it that your excuse for not returning my calls?"

"What calls, Dad, I haven't received a single call from you since I've been here. Mom, either. If it wasn't for Bex and the guys I'd have started to feel invisible. In fact, Bex, Harrison and Crys should be here shortly with a 5 Guys burger and fries for me. The food here's okay, but I've been hankering a 5 Guys since I left Glencoe."

"I've called several times every day. It's gone straight to voicemail. That didn't bother me, but your failure to return them did. That's why I'm here now."

"What number have you been calling, Dad? I've got two."

"847 –"

"That's the one that I use when I'm at school. That phone is in the bottom of my duffle bag. I haven't looked at it since I've been here. I've been using the one that you got for me in middle school. The 703 one."

"Ah. Okay. I'll make note of that. Now, son, how are you doing?"

"Outside of being very tired, I'm good, Dad. I finally think that I'm making strides in getting my life back together. And that feels good."

"You're not sad? Or angry? Or even a little frustrated?" Auggie asked his son earnestly.

"Yeah, Dad. I get sad and angry sometimes when I look at my lower legs. But that just makes me work harder. Frustrated? Yeah, I'm that, too. I'm frustrated that things can't go faster; that it's still going to be months before I can get my prosthesis and get the hell rid of this wheelchair. And that makes me work harder, too. … You're worried about my mental health aren't you?"

"Yeah. I remember my days in rehab …"

"Dad, I grew up with you as a role model. Yeah, losing my leg is going to change my life, but not drastically. I have an academic scholarship, not an athletic one. So, I'm missing this summer session, but I'll be back in class in the fall. Maybe in the wheelchair, on crutches for sure, but I'll be there. This is not going to derail my plans. I don't need two legs to be an engineer. Am I angry? Of course I am. Am I going to stay angry? I don't know. Probably not. You didn't. Yeah, I've seen you angry and frustrated at circumstances that you wouldn't have been in if you could see. But you were angry or frustrated with the circumstance not the being blind. And you found a solution to the problem. Maybe not the one you might have liked, but you found a solution. You persevered. And I will too. This is just a speed bump in my life; not the brick wall that you had to deal with when you were blinded."

"Chris this is not about me …"

"No, but living for nineteen years with you has taught me a lot. You survived, even thrived, in the face of what most consider a devastating disability. It didn't stop you. You picked yourself up, dusted yourself off and kept on goin'. What happened to me is nothing compared with what happened to you, Dad. In this Dad, you are my inspiration. Don't bristle like that Dad. I know how much you hate that word. But I _am_ going to look to your journey in blindness for direction in dealing with this. I'll get through this. We'll get through this. I'll get my prosthesis and learn how to walk again. Maybe I'll have to wear a brace on the other leg. THAT upsets me more than having a prosthesis."

"Why is that, Chris?"

"It's a sign of weakness. I don't want to be seen as weak. Oh, I'm not faulting Dr. Peterson. He did a wonderful job on me. The leg looks almost normal. Even the scars aren't horrible. And I don't have near the pain he thought I might. But the bone isn't healing as fast as it should and may not be able to support my weight without the possibility of breaking again. Damnit Dad, that's what pisses me off about this whole … thing. It's like my own body is conspiring against me."

"Didn't Dr. Peterson say that in time it might get better, and you can get rid of the brace? But in the meantime, you'll just have to do what you have to do."

"I know Dad, but it still pisses me off. … Dad, you have taught me a lot: how to play ball, how to treat a woman, how to solve quadratic equations; but the biggest thing I learned from you is how to win at life. And I'm still a winner."

* * *

><p><strong>Well? Do you think that Christopher is going to be okay?<strong>


	16. It Means Something to Me

**Something lighter. For those asking for a bit of Annie and Auggie pre-kids - hope this satisfies.**

**Mandy58 has looked it over.**

**I do not have any financial interest in the TV show that these two originally came from.**

* * *

><p>Auggie Anderson's internal alarm clock woke him. As he stretched before leaving the warmth of the bed, his arm came in contact with a form on the other edge of the king sized bed. This totally surprised him. Annie, his wife of just four months now, wasn't due back from her mission for another two days; and, the last time they'd spoken via her encrypted communication check-in early last evening, she was still in Toronto, Ontario, Canada and supposedly on her way to meet with the asset. It was such a routine and mundane meet that he'd turned her over to Gordon, one of the new techs, and come home.<p>

Now … and now here she was in their bed. At least he thought it was his Annie. But, who else could it be? Cautiously he inched his was across the mattress and cuddled the sleeping form. Felt like Annie. He skimmed his left hand down her left arm and fingered the ring on her left hand. Yeah, that was Annie's wedding band.

"Annie," he whispered nuzzling her left ear.

"Go way. Let me sleep," Annie mumbled sleepily.

"Tell me - Are you okay? – and then I'll leave you alone," Auggie whispered insistently.

"Yes. I'm fine – no gunshot wounds, no broken bones, no bruises. Go to work, I'll be in later." Annie pulled the covers around her shoulders more firmly and sighed softly.

Auggie gently stroked his wife's hair and whispered, "Later," into her ear. He scooted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs out from under the covers.

After showering and dressing as quietly as he could, Auggie slipped out the door and down to the condo building's driveway where he was met by the driver he'd hired to take him to Langley while Annie was gone.

Once he'd been dropped off in front of the main building on the campus of the George HW Bush Center for Central Intelligence, Auggie traveled the very familiar route to his office in the tech department of the Domestic Protection Division. No sooner had he settled in his chair his trusted assistant, Stuart Littlejohn, better known as just Stu, greeted him with the weariness of a man who'd been up all night.

"Mornin', Boss. At least one of us got some sleep last night," Stu observed.

"Yeah, and you've barely said a thing and I'm already beginning to feel guilty about that. What happened after I left? … I had a very pleasant surprise this morning."

"Ah, she made it home okay then?" Stu asked with relief evident.

"Yes. Apparently she made it home okay. What happened? I thought she had at least a few more days on that assignment."

"You'd only been) gone a few minutes when we got information that the whole caper was a no go. We pulled all of our officers out and got Annie the first available flight home. No one got hurt or compromised."

"What happened? Why wasn't I notified?" Auggie asked forcefully. Forcefully enough that Stu placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Joan was here and had it covered; she told us not to bring you back in. Then later Annie herself told us not to tell you she was coming home early. Of the two of you, we're a bit more afraid of making her mad," Stu admitted.

"And why is that?" Auggie demanded.

"She's a woman," Stu simply replied.

Auggie closed his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "She is that."

He reached for his headphones. His hand did not immediately land on them and he slowly swept his hand to the right; a few fractions of an inch to the right and the side of his hand touched them and he picked the headphones up and slung them around his neck. His left hand he reached out and punched the 'ON' button to his computer. While it was booting up he asked Stu, "Anything else going on around here today that I should know about?"

For the next few minutes Stu filled Auggie in on what each person in his division was supposed to be working on. No one was due to be checking-in anytime soon, and all field officers had received all necessary updated information. When the computer had finished booting up, Auggie selected a mission report that one of his personnel had submitted and began to review it with his text-to-speech program.

"Coffee at your 10," Auggie heard over the drone of the rapid text-to-speech voice in his headphones a few hours later. He paused the review of the document, and pulled his headphones off.

"Ah, you made it in today. How are you?" He turned his head slightly to his left, toward where his wife leaned against his desk.

"Yeah, but Joan is not happy that I did so. I could have had the day off to relax," Annie complained slightly.

"With the reception I got this morning, I thought you would sleep all day," Auggie teased.

"I was tempted, but I had the mission report to write. Such as it is," Annie replied. "Do you know what happened? I just got a message to pack up and get out."

"The complete reasons have not gone vertical," Auggie said. "Basically someone else got to the asset first is what I heard."

"Oh," Annie said and sighed. "I was working as fast as I could without spooking the asset. Joan can't blame that on me."

"No, I can't," Joan said from the doorway. "When you are through caffeinating your husband, I need a word with you. In my office."

"I may see you later," Annie said touching Auggie's shoulder, "if I don't get sent off to Outer Mongolia or somewhere for not turning the asset quickly enough."

"Joan didn't seem that upset. She hasn't sent anyone to Outer Mongolia in a long while. Not much intelligence to be gained there. Siberia on the other hand …" Auggie retorted as Annie's heels clicked their way out the door.

Much to his surprise, Auggie didn't see more of Annie during the day. He'd ask Stu what she was doing several times only to be told that she seemed to be engrossed in some paperwork. At his quitting time, Auggie passed her desk on his way out.

"Are you almost done?" he queried as he leaned casually against her desk.

"Not for a while yet," Annie responded. "As punishment for losing the asset Joan wants a couple of documents translated before I can go home tonight. I'm nearing the end, but it's still going to be more than an hour. Don't hang around waiting for me. I'm sure your driver is waiting for you. Don't keep him waiting. I'll be home later," Annie said wearily. She gently ran her hand up and down his forearm.

# # # # #

Auggie rummaged around in the kitchen drawers until he located the candles he'd been searching for. He'd almost given up his search when he'd finally found them. After grabbing five of the long tapers, he went back into the dining room. Carefully he inserted the candles into the holders of the candelabrum he'd taken from the pantry shelf earlier.

After quickly checking the place setting, Auggie went into the living room and put on some soft, romantic music. Now that the stage was set, he crossed back to the pantry to see what he could find to fix for this impromptu romantic dinner. A few minutes into his search, Auggie threw up his hands up. There wasn't anything of the labeled canned goods that 'worked' for him with any of the items left in the refrigerator. His fall back meal of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich was not at all romantic.

From the foyer he heard Annie call for him.

"I'm in the pantry foraging for something to fix for dinner," he called out.

The sound of her heels moved from the entryway into the living room of the condo and stopped before reaching the kitchen.

"Auggie, what's going on here? An intimate dinner for two? What's the occasion?" Annie asked.

Auggie stepped out of the pantry and moved toward his wife. "It's a little known one that I've always celebrated with you, even if you didn't realize we were celebrating. ... You've got to be better about labeling stuff in the pantry. There's plenty of stuff in there, but most of it I have no way of knowing what it is."

"I'm sorry, the last few times I've gotten groceries I've been in a rush to get them in and put away. I'll put that at the top of my to do list. Now, what is this occasion?"

He was beside her now and reached for her hand. "You don't know, do you?"

"Not a clue."

"Six years ago today, you came into my life and it's never been the same."

"Today's Wednesday. I distinctly remember we met for the first time on a Thursday."

"I go on the date, not the day. I could have gone with either this year, though."

"You never struck me as the sentimental sort," Annie said wrapping her arms around he husband's neck.

"I'm not generally so," Auggie admitted and kissed her on the forehead. "I might have been your first friend in the company, but in being your friend you made me a better person. When I went with you to the morgue that day, even though we got pinched, it was just about the most fun I'd had since I'd lost my sight. Oh, there'd been good times, but I hadn't felt really alive until that day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really. It was like you added another layer to my world that I didn't even know was missing. You opened doors to places I didn't even know existed …"

"I did? I had no idea."

"And you were so refreshing on that first day. Asking about the headphones rather than how I'd been blinded. That totally threw me. I was so used to people asking how I lost my sight. But you didn't. I think I fell in love with you right then and there …"

"I didn't quite know what to make of you that day. You fascinated me. I'd never met someone who couldn't see before and you blew all of my preconceptions away. I knew that you were someone worth getting to know. I think that we were destined then to be where we are right now – together forever." Annie tugged gently on his neck so that he'd lower his head a bit, and then kissed him gently on the lips. Auggie returned the kiss by nibbling a bit on her lower lip. Annie gentle pulled her lower lip from between his teeth and returned with an open mouthed kiss of passion. Hungrily they kissed each other without reservation. Soon any thoughts of satisfying any other hunger vanished as they began to undress each other there in the dining room.

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><p><strong>Anyone care to leave a comment?<strong>


	17. Annie's Song

**Short. I think the shortest thing I've written in a long, long time. I wanted this to be something else, but it insisted on being this. At the end it's a strong 'T' rating bordering on 'M'.**

**Mandy has looked it over and found nothing to correct or suggest a change to.**

**I still don't own Covert Affairs, although I am close to owning the two iconic symbols of the show - a pair of Annie's Louboutains and Auggie's cane. Both autographed by their actors.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Annie's Song by John Denver<strong>_

_**You fill up my senses  
>Like a night in a forest<br>Like a mountain in springtime  
>Like a walk in the rain<br>Like a storm in the desert  
>Like a sleepy blue ocean<br>You fill up my senses  
>Come fill me again<br>Come let me love you  
>Let me give my life to you<br>Let me drown in your laughter  
>Let me die in your arms<br>Let me lay down beside you  
>Let me always be with you<br>Come let me love you  
>Come love me again<strong>_

_**Let me always be with you**_  
><em><strong>Come let me love you<strong>_  
><em><strong>Come love me again<strong>_

August 'Auggie' Anderson listened to the clear, pleasant, male voice sing the song accompanied with only an acoustic guitar and a few violins at certain points. His mother had suggested he download it from iTunes and listen to it. He had and now he was listening to it. As the singer began the verse a second time, the words really began to resonate with Auggie. By the end of the song he thought that he could have written it about his Annie.

He played it one more time. Just so he knew he had the lines committed to memory. As the song came to an end again, Auggie felt a tender kiss on the back of his neck, right were his neck ended and his shoulder began.

She was nibbling gently now at the side of his neck below his ear. Auggie tilted his head to one side to give Annie better access. "You are distracting me," he said softly. "In the most appealing of ways. … I want you to listen to something first," he added as he began the song again and handed her his headphones.

Annie was quiet for a bit, and then said, "Play it again for me."

Auggie complied. Even without needing to listen to VoiceOver telling him where the tabbing was taking him. He had a few cursor movements for getting from one place to another down pat, especially in iTunes.

"Thank you. That's such a haunting tune. What's the name of it?" Annie said a few more minutes later as she put the headphones back around her husband's neck.

"'Annie's Song' by someone named John Denver. He was a favorite of Mom's when I was little. She suggested that I find it on iTunes in her last email. I thought that I'd just be humoring her if I did, but I see now why she wanted me to hear it. It's almost as if I'd written it about you."

"Really?" Annie asked settling herself on her new husband's lap and wrapping an arm around his neck.

"Really. When you're around you do fill up my senses. The various voices you use during the day – I can tell if you've had a good day. Or if something, or someone, is frustrating you; when you're tired, or wired. And the different laughs that you have. I love the smell of you – the natural smell of you before you shower and apply your perfume. I love the feel of you in my arms or lying beside me in the bed. Let's face it, Annie, I simply love you. Everything about you. And I never want to be without you." He wrapped his arms about her waist and kissed her forehead.

Auggie's hand snaked under her light knit top and cupped the most convenient breast. Annie cooed seductively at the touch. Auggie pulled the headphone from around his neck with his free hand and laid them on his desk. He slipped an arm behind her back and the other under Annie's legs, picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. There he kissed her, stroked her, and brought her to back arching climax. More than once before he satisfied himself.

* * *

><p><strong>It is what it is. Did you like? No? Sorry.<strong>


	18. Goin' to the Chapel

**I've been sitting on this one for a while. Was in the mood to see if anyone likes this one. I've not been exactly blown away with the comments for the last few chapters. I'm not sure anyone likes what I've been posting. I've got one more ready to go up, and one about ready to go to the beta, but I'm not sure of anything past that. I have a long list of tales I want to tell, but if no one wants to read them ...**

**Thanks to Mandy, Carrie, and Sue for their input and guidance with this one. Even my new friend in Pretoria, South Africa sparked an idea for this one.**

**I don't own Covert Affairs or the original Annie and Auggie. Although I do now own Annie's Louboutains and Auggie's cane that are autographed by Piper Perabo and Christopher Gorham. Yes, yes I do. And Christopher Gorham assured me they are the only ones out there.**

* * *

><p>"Dad, can I ask you something?" Christopher Anderson asked as he and his father lingered over their last beer before retiring for the evening.<p>

"You know you can ask me anything. I just might not have an answer," Auggie answered using the line that he'd used with his children ever since they'd been old enough to ask probing questions. He grinned broadly. It had been a while since his son had asked him a question that needed that response.

"This is serious, Dad."

Auggie passed a hand over his face as if wiping the smile from it. He had a more serious expression afterward.

Christopher sighed in exasperation.

"What do you want to know?"

"Before you married Mom, did you ever consider that in doing so you'd be a burden to her?"

Auggie's response was quick. "No, that concept has never crossed my mind. I've never thought of myself that way, and, more importantly, your mother has never made me feel as if I'm one. Why are you even asking about that?"

"As the wedding gets closer I'm wondering if marrying Bex is fair to her," Christopher responded.

Auggie furrowed his brow in concern and confusion. "What has you thinking that way, Chris? Has Bex said something? Or acted in a manner that makes you think that?"

"No, she's not said or done anything. It's just this nagging fear that I have," Christopher said quietly.

Auggie's brow remained furrowed. "I don't understand. Why?"

"You can't see it so it doesn't exist? My leg, Dad. Or more my lack of one," Christopher said sharply.

"Oh, I am very aware of that, Christopher. Every step you take reminds me. … Let me get this straight – you think that because you've lost part of a leg that makes you a burden on the woman who wants to marry you?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

Auggie gently shook his head. "You and Bex are a couple; and have been long before you even made it official. You both have your strengths. And your weaknesses. Just like your mom and I do. Our weaknesses might just be a bit more noticeable. … When you were little, you came to me for some things and to your mother for others. Intuitively you knew that I was not going to be of much help with visual things, but I was strong in math and science stuff. And man stuff. That's just the way it was. That's the way it's going to be with you and Rebecca."

"My leg dad …"

"My eyes, Christopher. Of the two, which is more limiting?"

"Your eyes, Dad. I guess your eyes are."

"Exactly! And if I don't feel like I'm a burden, you sure as hell shouldn't. If there is one truth that I've learned it's that we – those of us with disabilities – are never a burden to those who love us. Ask your mom. … Now, it's late and I need to get to bed. Ask your mom about that."

# # # # #

_The next evening - Wedhesday. _

"Mom, can I have a few minutes?" Christopher asked coming in to the kitchen from the family room.

"Sure, Chris. I've always got time for one of my kids," Annie said as she put the last plate from dinner in the dishwasher. "What's up?"

Christopher settled on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, leaning the crutches he was using against the countertop. "Before you married Dad did you have second thoughts about marrying him?"

"No. Never. Is Bex having second thoughts?" Annie said starting the dishwasher.

Christopher shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I know about. I'm the one that's having them," he said guardedly.

"Why, Chris? You two have been together for so long."

"It's hard to explain, Mom, but I'm having doubts that her marrying me is the right thing for her."

"Why on earth would you think that? ... Oh, Christopher, I thought you were long past those feelings!"

"I thought that I was, too. But, sometimes, when I'm taking my leg off or putting it on in the morning there's this voice in the back of my head that wonders why someone as smart and pretty as Bex would want to saddle herself with someone like me. The closer we get to the wedding the louder that damn voice gets. Were the sacrifices you had to make to be with Dad worth it?"

"Let me make two things perfectly clear to you. First is that I did not sacrifice or give up anything to be with your father; a few minor life-style changes but nothing more than that. I loved your father enough that I would have done anything to be with him. I still would. Now, and he'd fuss at me for saying this, you are nowhere near as 'limited' as your father is. And blindness is just a mere inconvenience for him. It can be a pretty big inconvenience at times, but it's still just an inconvenience. Maybe if your father had had a self-pitying attitude or was angry all the time I might have felt differently, but he wasn't any of that. You aren't that either. Talk to Bex. Let her tell you that she doesn't think of you any differently than she would if the accident had never happened. She loves you, Chris."

"I know, Mom. And I love her, that's exactly why I question if she knows all the ramifications of being with me. Like today, needing these," he touched his crutches, "because of the pain."

"How long have you been in pain, son? How bad is it?" Annie asked with concern.

"It comes and goes. Depends on what I've been doing. The half marathon we ran a few weeks ago left me with a blister. I've been on crutches most of the time since, but I was damned if I was going to use them at graduation Saturday and now I'm paying for that. Everything was fine while we were training, but during the actual race my leg started to chafe. I should have stopped, but I didn't. I was too determined to finish."

"You're just like your father … What was your finish time?"

"It was a pitiful 1:32:15," Christopher replied with a shrug. "It was a full ten minutes off Bex's pace." He had a look of irritation on his face. "She met me at the finish line with my crutches. She had the foresight to have her girlfriend who dropped us off at the start line met us at the finish with them. I didn't know whether to hug her or be pissed at her. I let the paramedics treat me; while they were doing that Bex had the gall to take my prosthesis and stick it in her friend's car."

"Sounds like she looks out for you pretty well; and you're questioning her devotion to you?"

"It's because of that devotion that I'm questioning if marrying her is going to be good for her. Is looking out for me going to place a burden on her? I look out for her, too; but I've got an extra reason for her to be concerned about. Mom, I love her, but I don't want to be a burden to her."

Annie sighed and shook her head. "Chris, talk to Bex. Tell her your concerns. I know that she's going to laugh at you. It's not something we think about, it's just something that we do. Let me give you an example. All of the things we do for Dad – cue him about what's on his plate, offer sighted lead in unfamiliar places, place his hand on the back of his chair in restaurants, things like that – do you have to think about doing those things or do you do them without thinking about them?"

"I guess I do them automatically. Half the time I don't realize I've done them until later," Christopher offered after a moment's contemplation.

"Do you consider doing those things for your father a burden? More to the point, do you consider your father a burden because he requires those things at times?"

"No, of course not! … Ah, I see. You're saying that's the same for Bex with me."

"Yes. Exactly. Dad does not demand those things of us. Maybe by now he expects that we'll do them for him automatically, but we do them because they make his life easier, richer. We do them because we love him."

"Okay, Mom. I get it. I'll stop worrying," Chris said and flashed a relieved smile.

"Now go. Go have fun with your buddies at the bar for your bachelor party. If you don't get a move on it, you'll be late to your own party." As Annie watched her son crutch his way to the back door, the small pang of regret that she hadn't been able to shake yet gripped her gut as she observed the vacant space between the hem of his left jeans' leg and the floor.

# # # # #

_Thursday evening_.

"Mrs. A. can I talk to you for a few minutes?" Rebecca Larsen asked Annie as she came in and sat at the table where Annie was cutting up fresh vegetables for the stir-fry she planned for dinner.

"Of course, Bex," Annie said as she quartered an already cored red pepper. "What's wrong?"

"It's your son. He's been … well, he's been … distant these last few days. We're getting married – I think we are anyway – in two days. Do you know what's wrong with him? Is he getting cold feet?"

Annie lay the knife down and looked at Bex. The young woman was clearly concerned. "Yeah, Bex, I think I do. He hasn't talked to you about why he's … distant as you call it?"

"No," Rebecca said firmly, shaking her head. "That's what I mean by distant. We talk, but when I start to ask why he's not more excited about getting married he clams up or finds a reason to be somewhere else."

"I have a question for you. How do you really feel about marrying a man with a disability?"

Rebecca furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean? Chris isn't disabled."

"Yes, he is, Bex. But it's really nice that you don't see him as such, but still take care of his occasional needs. He and I were talking the other day and he mentioned what you did after the half marathon. May I ask why you took his prosthesis? Some might call that cruel or insensitive."

"He's still pissed about that? I was trying to keep him from hurting himself even more. It wasn't like I left him high and dry," Rebecca defended. "He's so damn stubborn sometimes." She paused for a few more moments, sighed softly and began to speak again. "We'd trained hard for the half. He keeps himself in very good shape even after he had to give up ROTC. It was his idea to run the half in preparation for a full marathon. We paced ourselves but didn't work as hard as they made him in PT for ROTC. He didn't have any issues. He didn't have any issues in the half marry until about mile eight; by mile nine I could tell that something was wrong – his stride was off and, even though he tried to hide it, he had a pained expression. I wanted to stop but he wouldn't. At one point he said he was going to stop and did. He encouraged me to go on and finish. Stupidly I did. I looked back once and saw him a few blocks behind me. I made it to the finish where my friend Allison met me. Just in case I'd had Chris bring his crutches. I had Allison go get them out of the car for me while I did the end of race stuff. When Chris finally made it across the finish line he was in agony. As soon as he officially crossed the line I thrust his crutches at him so he could get his weight off whichever leg was giving him the problem. The paramedics insisted on checking him out. When I saw the sore on his residual limb, yes I took his prosthesis to the car. Knowing him he would have put in right back on and further hurt himself."

"He's so like his father in the stubborn department. That's one of the crosses we bear for loving Anderson men. They can be stubborn old mules at times. Every last one of them. … He had a bit of a different slant on the story, but pretty much told me the same thing. He's worried that because you sometimes have to do things like that for him that marrying him is unfair to you," Annie said quietly.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Oh," Rebecca said with comprehension. "That's just silly," she said forcefully. "I have been with him every step of the way since the accident. Literally. I was there when he got his leg and stood up for the first time. I wish you could have been there to share that with us. He was so proud and stood so tall. He had this ridiculous ear-to-ear grin. I was crying. Then he took his first tentative steps. He walked to me for the first time. The first time he walked after the accident it was into my arms. I didn't think I could ever be happier than I was to see the man I loved walking to me." Rebecca picked up a piece of bell pepper and began to munch on it. A few minutes later she looked at Annie. "Do you ever regret marrying Mr. A? He's far more disabled than Christopher is."

Annie shook her head. "No, I've never regretted one moment of my life with Auggie. Long before he even asked me to marry him it had become automatic for me to do those little things that he needs done for him. People have asked me if I mind the sacrifices I've had to make to be with him. My answer has always been 'What sacrifices?'. He's got such a wonderful attitude and personality that being with him is a joy, sometimes an adventure, but always as natural as breathing. That doesn't mean that we haven't had clashes. We have. And a few of them have been ugly, with yelling and slamming doors – and that was Auggie. You know – the works. And the vast majority of these arguments were about stuff that any couple would have had an argument over. I can count on the fingers of one hand, with fingers left over, the number of times that we argued over something that had to do with his being blind. Although Auggie's blindness is a big part of who he is, it's not all that he is. It does not define him, or our relationship. ... How do you think of my Christopher?"

Rebecca looked at Annie with comprehension. "I totally get it," she said firmly. "Chris losing his leg is just a very small part of who he is; he is so much more than that. When it happened it did change our relationship in a way that I don't think either of us expected. He tried to push me away, but I wouldn't let him. The whole accident made me realize that I couldn't envision my life without him in it. I'd already transferred to Northwestern – over his objections – when the accident happened, but I didn't fully understand why I wanted to do that. I just knew that I wasn't happy at Georgetown while Crys was perfectly happy where she was. In retrospect …"

"Bex, go. Go tell Chris what you want. Go tell him what he needs to hear."

"What do I need to hear?" Christopher asked coming around the corner into the kitchen.

"That you're being a silly goose," Rebecca announced without missing a beat.

"As if I have to ask – what am I being a silly goose about? This time," Christopher asked as he moved the rest of the way into the kitchen and to the refrigerator. He pulled the refrigerator door open and extracted a bottle of water, using its contents to wash down the pill he had in his hand.

"You're silly if you think I'm marrying you because I feel sorry for your one-legged ass," Rebecca retorted quickly.

"If that's not why you're marrying me, then why are you?" Christopher shot back. His tone was playful, but there was an edge of concern there, too.

"For the life of me, I don't know," Rebecca replied. "Seriously, Chris, I want to marry you because I simply cannot envision life with anyone else. Challenges and all, I want to be with you until we die of very old age," she stated as she rose and walked over to Christopher and wrapped her arms about him tenderly.

# # # # #

After taking her seat in the front right pew beside Auggie, Annie took a deep breath and finally allowed herself to completely relax. The whirlwind of activity of the last ten days was now over.

Annie described the floral decorations at the front of the church to her husband of close to twenty-five years with hushed whispers. Auggie was beaming again. Not nearly as much as he had at their son's graduation from Northwestern University a week ago, but there was a definite pleased and contented look about him today – today his son was marrying his best friend. Christopher and Rebecca Madison Larsen had been together since freshman year of high school. During high school and their first year of college, both had dated others, but the accident that had claimed Christopher's left leg, had brought them to the realization that there would never be anyone else for either of them. Now today, they were formally declaring their undying love for each other.

A slight commotion to the right caught Annie's attention. Christopher was making his way to his assigned space at the altar. The cane he sometimes used conspicuously absent. As were the crutches he'd been using for much of the last week. His best friend and now Best Man, Harrison, walked beside him. Both young men were good-looking, but today, in their tuxedos, they were photographer's model handsome. Christopher reminded her very much of what Auggie must have looked like at the same age. She relayed this information to Auggie and he laughed lightly and shook his head in amused disagreement.

No sooner than Christopher and Harrison had taken their places, the strains of the traditional wedding march played over the church's sound system. Everyone stood and craned their heads to look toward the back of the church. Rebecca's twin sister, Crystal, attired in a long, black, cocktail type dress, preceded Rebecca down the center aisle. Annie gasped when she first caught sight of the bride. Rebecca was a lovely young woman, but she was stunning in the long, off-white strapless sheath she wore.

Now that she'd seen the bride, Annie turned her attention to her son to see his reaction when he first caught sight of Rebecca. He'd had a nervous smile pasted on his face, but when he saw Rebecca that smile dissolved into a genuine grin of absolute pleasure. Beside him Harrison mouthed a 'Wow', and elbowed Christopher.

Auggie nudged Annie, "What's happening?"

"Rebecca is a beautiful bride. She's beaming at Chris, and he's grinning from ear to ear at her. They're joining hands now," Annie whispered.

The minister welcomed those assembled to see Christopher and Rebecca wed. It was a surprisingly small assemblage to see these too widely popular young people say their vows. Behind her were all of Auggie's brothers and their wives, many of his nephews and nieces, as well as most of her son's friends. Danielle, Katia and Chloe, with their husbands were also in attendance.

Sometime during the ceremony, Auggie had taken Annie's hand. When the couple confidently said their 'I do-s' he squeezed it in solidarity. He'd told Annie several times that this day would come, but she'd been skeptical – especially when Christopher and Rebecca had been arguing. As they'd matured the loud arguments became less frequent and compromise more common.

At the end of the ceremony, as the newly married couple kissed before hurrying back down the aisle, Annie whispered to Auggie, "They look so happy. Such a tender kiss."

"Brings back memories," was all that Auggie said.

"Here, too," Annie responded. "I hope they'll be as happy as we've been." Annie rose from her seat. Auggie followed suit.

"I have a good feeling that they will," Auggie said as he and Annie exited the sanctuary.

They met Christopher and Rebecca in the church foyer for the receiving line. Standing next to Rebecca in the receiving line, Auggie had good fun in introducing her as the 'newest Mrs. Anderson."

A little less than an hour later, Auggie found himself dancing with Rebecca at the reception in the church hall.

"Thank you, Dad," the newest Mrs. Anderson whispered in her father-in-law's ear as they carefully circled the dance floor. Rebecca and Christopher had already had their first dance; and Rebecca had danced with her father and Christopher with Annie. Now Auggie was dancing with Rebecca and Christopher with his mother-in-law.

"Why are you thanking me, Bex? All I've done today is show up here for your wedding to my son."

"For raising such a wonderful son. I'm a very happy girl today," Rebecca relayed.

"No, Bex. You are a woman today. You've been a woman for a few years now. When Chris got hurt both of you were thrust into adulthood early. You handled that admirably. Since you made it through that I know that the rest of your life together will be good."

"Thanks for saying that," Rebecca said softly. "But I don't quite feel grown-up all the time."

Auggie smiled broadly. "I'll let you in on a little secret – even I feel like a kid sometimes. And there's nothing wrong with that."

The tune they were dancing to ended. Rebecca asked Auggie, "Annie is over by the bar, do you want me to take you over there? Or do you want to just go back to the table?"

"The table's fine. Thanks," Auggie replied and took Rebecca's arm. A few moments later she placed his hand on the back of a chair.

"Bex, I haven't had the chance to say it before, but thanks for loving my son. I've known for years that this day would happen for the two of you. You two just belong together. Like Annie and I belong together. We were best friends long before we became lovers, too."

"I know. Annie mentioned that the other day. I can't imagine either of you with anyone else. Just like I can't see Chris and I with anyone else. Now, my parents …" She laughed lightly before moving off.

Auggie pulled out the chair and sat down. After a few minutes of listening to the various conversations happening around him, Auggie felt a cold, wet, glass brush against the back of his hand.

"Thought you might like a cold beer," Annie said slipping into the seat beside him.

"Thanks. I heard you and Mr. Larsen laughing like teenagers a few minutes ago. What was that all about?"

"Our feet kept getting in each other's way. He admits he's not a very good dancer. It was fun though. You and Bex did very well together. … She is such a lovely young woman."

"I wouldn't know about that," Auggie said and grinned.

"Trust me. They make a handsome couple. They'll make beautiful babies together," Annie offered.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be a grandfather," Auggie admitted. "That would really make me feel old. I'm already older than most of Chris' friend's parents. Speaking of which, I haven't seen the Jahns today. They are here aren't they?"

"Yes, Amy and James are here. Do you want me to take you over where they're sitting?"

"No that won't be necessary. I'm sure I'll see them in a few weeks at Harrison and Crystal's wedding. That's another one that I saw coming a long time ago," Auggie said with unmistakable cockiness.

"Okay, Mr. Seer-of-Future-Weddings tell me – are Corry and Joshua going to wind up married?"

"Yes, but to other people. Granted, they've been together a long time, but college is making them drift apart, not bringing them closer together. I think that Corry is going to break it off soon."

"Here they come. Keep that opinion under your hat for a bit, please," Annie said as she touched her husband's arm. "Would you care to dance with me?"

"Of course, any reason to hold you in my arms …"

* * *

><p><strong>There it is. Sort fo the end of this story arc. Whether or not we see more of Christopher, Corrine, and Annie and Auggie at any point of their married life is in your hands.<strong>


	19. I'm not sure about this?

**There were enough positive, encouraging comments after I was a 'drama queen' on the last offering that I've been bouyed. As long as the story ideas are in my head and flow easily into print, I'll continue for a bit longer. I write for personal reasons, like most of you, and, it seems, that I have a small but loyal following. Thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to pen me a note.**

**My new friend Katie suggested this topic. Don't know why I chose the POV that I did for this one, or why it flowed so easily from my fingers, but here it is. Hope that you enjoy this view of an insecure Annie.**

**Mandy's looked it over.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any creative part of the show upon which these characters are based.**

* * *

><p>August 'Auggie' Anderson placed the special cane that he used inside the CIA building in Langley into his desk drawer and picked up the folded up white cane that he used everywhere else. After locking the drawer and double checking that he'd turned off his electronic equipment, he unfolded his cane and headed out of his office into the bullpen and to where his wife waited for him at her desk. Annie had returned just a few hours ago from a mission in Brazil that had kept her gone from their home for almost three weeks. To say that he was excited to be with her once again was an understatement. He'd missed the ways that she touched him, each touch telegraphed something different to him. When ninety percent of your world consisted of touch and sound, the absence of the one left him lonelier than he ever expected it could.<p>

He honed in on her signature scent that told him she was still at her desk. Probably finishing up her mission report, or filling out the expense forms. But, as he approached her work station, there were no sounds of her keying data into the computer, nor were there sounds of her shuffling papers on the desk. He cocked his head ever so slightly to the right in puzzlement. Her scent was strong so he knew that she was still there.

"Annie?" he said as he stopped beside her desk.

"I'm here, Auggie," she replied. There was an unexpected tension in her voice. Auggie didn't quite know what to make of that. "I need to drop my reports on Joan's desk on our way out, but I'm ready to head home." She stood and brushed her hand against her husband's.

Even though he was in a very familiar environment that he could navigate unaided, Auggie took the offered elbow. The slight tension he felt in her body coupled with the barely perceptible tension in her voice told Auggie more than he wanted to know at the moment. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Half-way to their boss' office Annie spoke, "These are for you, Joan. Can I give them to you now? Or do you want me to drop them on your desk?"

"I'll take them," Joan Campbell, Director of the Domestic Protection Division of the CIA, said. "Thanks. I'll see both of you on Monday. Have a nice weekend," she said as she moved passed them.

"Night, Joan," Auggie said and forced a smile.

Beside him Annie picked up her pace a bit. Except for an occasional comment to someone they passed in the hallway or in the elevator, Annie and Auggie walked to her car in silence. Once they were settled into the vehicle and Annie was pulling out of her parking space, Auggie spoke, "What's wrong, Annie dear?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Your silence for one; and there's tension in your voice and body."

"Oh. Didn't know it showed."

"Probably not to someone else, but very noticeable to this blind me. Did something go wrong on the mission that you didn't mention in our briefings?" They had spoken frequently during Annie's three weeks away, but it was usually mission related and the conversations were very brief.

"Mission was practically text book."

"Then what?"

"It's something personal that I'm not prepared to discuss with you quite yet."

"Oh. When?"

"Soon. Before the weekend's gone," Annie replied and touched her husband's arm. "Auggie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone else."

# # # # #

Once they'd returned to their condo in Reston, Virginia, Annie and Auggie worked together to prepare a simple meal, and clear away the dishes after they'd eaten. They'd settled into strained conversation during meal prep, dinner, and most of the clean-up process. Auggie caught Annie up on the gossip of the DPD and CIA in general; and what her sister and nieces had been up to in the last three weeks. Annie filled her husband in on the humorous parts of the mission, and the few things she'd managed to buy for him, her sister and her nieces.

Finally the knowledge that his wife was bothered by something that she was having a hard time talking to him about drove Auggie to the edge. As she passed by him on the way to the dining room to finish tidying it up he reached out and grabbed for her. He caught her by the wrist; and a bit more forcefully than he'd intended.

"Ouch, that hurts," Annie yelped in pain.

"Sorry," Auggie said loosening his grip just a bit. "But, we need to talk about what's bothering you. And we need to do that now," he stated firmly. "Especially if it involves me."

"Okay," Annie said quietly and sighed resignedly. "I guess now is as good a time as any. Let's go to the living room."

Auggie loosened his grip on her wrist and took her hand. Hand-in-hand they walked into the living room and settled onto the sofa. Auggie sat normally and Annie sat with her back to the arm and one foot on the floor the other tucked under her.

"While I was gone, something happened to me personally. Nothing mission related, just to me as a woman."

"And that was?"

"My period was late enough that for a while I was beginning to wonder if I was pregnant. I'm not. Or at least I don't think I am. I finally got my period. But my reaction to the possibility that I might be pregnant surprised me."

"We discussed this months ago, and you said it was time to start our family," Auggie said softly, turning in his seat so that his position mirrored Annie's. "I don't understand. Weren't you thrilled at the possibility? Or were you worried that something might happen on a mission and jeopardize the pregnancy?"

"Neither. I was angry. Resentful that if I was pregnant it would mean the end of covert assignments. That I'd be stuck decoding documents and intel full time. Then I got mad at myself for feeling that way. I thought that I wanted children. Now I'm not so sure."

Auggie reached out toward where his wife was sitting. Annie placed her hand in his. "Oh," Auggie acknowledged her admission the only way he could at the moment. Going off of the birth control pills and trying to get pregnant had been her idea; something about a biological clock running out. "Is it because you think that you'd be stuck raising the kids without much help from me? Because I'm …"

"Oh god no, Auggie! That's the furthest thing from my mind. I know you'll be a wonderful and helpful father. It's me I'm worried about. Some women, like Dani, are natural born mothers. I'm not sure I'm the mother type."

"I have no such doubts about you being a wonderful mother, Annie. None at all," Auggie reassured quickly. "You love Katia and Chloe and are so good with them. But it's your body. If you don't want kids, then I'll get over it." It was hard to keep the disappointment from his voice.

"I didn't mean it that way. I'm just not sure that I'll be a natural mother like Dani to my own. I mean, she has the luxury of being home most of the time and is able to be a full-time mother. Even if we could live on your salary, I'm not sure that I'd want to quit work. I love my job, and I'm good at it. What we do is important."

"Anne …"

"Auggie, don't. I didn't mean to imply that you're not a good provider. You are. It's just …"

"Anne, listen to me …"

"What, Auggie?"

"I'm discovering that I don't need to be a father to be fulfilled as a person. We don't have to have children. But I thought that we decided months ago that it was time for that to happen. What's happened to make you change your mind about that?"

"Nothing, Auggie. I WANT children. I'm just afraid that I won't be a good enough mother to them. I'm not sure that I'm cut out to be a parent."

"You'll do just fine. _We_ will do just fine," Auggie reassured her. "My mom told me once that parenting is a learn-as-you-go sort of thing. And nobody's going to be perfect at it. All we can do is the best we know how. And, Annie, there are millions of families where both parents work that have successfully raised good kids; and there are thousands more families with at least one disabled parent who have done the same."

Annie reached out and cupped her hand on the side of Auggie's face, gently tracing his cheekbone with her thumb. "I know that, Auggie. That's why I was so upset with myself for thinking that way when I thought that I might be pregnant. I'm not even pregnant yet, and I'm scared about taking on such a huge responsibility. I mean, I have people's lives in my hands when I'm turning an asset, or doing some of the other things that we do, without reservation. But I'm afraid over something as natural as having a baby."

Under his wife's hand Auggie smiled knowingly. "Ah, I see. You're afraid of not doing right by our child once it arrives. Don't worry about messing up too badly. I'm not about to let that happen. There's enough messed up Anderson's running around out there. I'm not about to be the parent of another one."

Annie laughed now, too. "You know what, Mr. Anderson?"

"No. What Mrs. Anderson?" Auggie answered as he was pulled to a standing position by his wife.

"I'd like to go and try to make a baby right now," she whispered in his ear.


	20. Why, Daddy, Why?

A bit heavy for a five-year-old, but Christopher is a bit precocous.

I don't own any part of the characters of Annie Walker or Auggie Anderson from USA's Covert Affairs upon who my Annie and Auggie are based. They belong to Matt Corman and Chris Ord.

* * *

><p>Auggie Anderson pulled the headphones from his ears and set them beside his computer keyboard. He and his brother Austin had just finished a lengthy banter by means of the social media invention known as Twitter. On the one hand it was so impersonal, but on the other, at least for him anyway, if was far more private than a phone conversation. They, with occasional input from two of their other brothers Adam and Alan, had planned the outings for their upcoming Memorial Day family weekend. This year the Cubbies were playing at home and Adam had scored box seats on the first base line for everyone again. This year it would be more than just the five boys and their father. Adam's oldest Cody, and Anthony's two boys Lucas and Ethan would also be going. Auggie was looking forward to going home this year – no one had met his daughter Corrine yet and she was almost two.<p>

Rising from his desk chair in his home office, Auggie quickly walked from the room and down the hallway toward the kitchen where Annie should be feeding both of their children. Besides wanting to tell her the plans, he was in desperate need of a bottle of water. As he approached the kitchen the voice of his young son, Christopher, could be heard asking his mother a question. Auggie stopped to listen in on the conversation.

"Mommy, why can't Daddy see?"

"Daddy's eyes are broken, Chris. They don't work anymore," Annie gently told her son.

Christopher huffed with four-year-old indignation. "I know THAT, Mommy. HOW did Daddy's eyes get broken?"

Even though he knew that at some point he'd probably be answering that question, hearing his son ask it made him sigh with a bit of resignation. He'd formulated an answer, but now it seemed too much information for an almost five year old. He rounded the corner just as Annie was telling Christopher, "You'll have to ask your Daddy that one, Chris. But Daddy's busy right now."

"No, Daddy's not busy," Auggie said entering the kitchen area. "What does Christopher have to ask me? Where ya at buddy?"

"I'm here, Daddy," Christopher said touching his father's arm.

Auggie reached out and cupped the side of his son's head with his hand.

"How did your eyes get hurt, Daddy?"

With his free hand Auggie located the island counter top and checked to see if anything was on it; and then he dropped that hand to his son's tiny body and lifted him onto the countertop. This brought Christopher, more-or-less, to his father's eye level.

"Do you know what war is, Chris?" Auggie began.

"It's a game we play with cards," Christopher replied.

"That's not the one I mean, Chris," Auggie responded. "That's also what grown-ups call it when countries send men and women to fight each other with guns and bombs."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that kind."

Auggie smiled gently, glad that his son's life wasn't dominated by talk of the wars still raging in the Middle East. "Yeah, there is that kind. When Daddy was younger he was a soldier and went to fight in a country named Iraq. We weren't mad at all the people who lived in that country, but there were some people there that hated our country and wanted to destroy us. Not everyone in Iraq felt that way, but they were powerless against these men."

"Why did these men hate us, Daddy?"

"Our country was powerful in the world; we allowed people freedoms that these men thought were evil; most people in our country had things that these men could only dream of having because their country was not powerful or wealthy. A few years before the leader of this group of men carried out a plan that killed a lot of innocent people here in our country. Even though some of the people in our country said we should have seen that attack coming, it caught us off-guard. Our President and people wanted the man who thought up the plan to be caught and punished for what he did. We didn't want other groups and countries to think that they could get away with attacking our country like that."

"What did they do to make us mad?"

"They took over several airplanes and flew them into the Pentagon, and some very tall, important buildings in New York City. There was another plane that was supposed to crash into the White House, but that plane never reached its target. There were some very brave men and women on that plane that took it back from the bad men."

"Did we say thank you to these men and women?"

"In a way we did. These men and women died when the plane crashed into the ground, but they kept many more people from dying if it had reached its target. We built a monument to honor these brave people's memory. Someday maybe we'll go there and show it to you. It took us a long time, but eventually we tracked down all of the men who planned the attacks on us. It was during one of these missions to find one of these men that Daddy's eyes got hurt. Daddy was a Captain in a group of special soldiers called the Special Forces. We were highly trained men and women who did special missions to take out certain targets and capture bad men without involving a whole lot of soldiers.

"Daddy was leading a small group of men to go and capture one of these bad men. He didn't want to be captured and fought back. One of his friends set off a bomb. When it exploded it blinded me and killed my men. For a long time I was very angry about that. Not so much because I couldn't see anymore, but because he killed the men I was leading. I couldn't save my friends from being killed by this bad man."

"How did the bomb hurt your eyes, Daddy?" Christopher asked reaching over to touch his father's cheek just below his eyes.

Auggie sighed a little before answering. "I wasn't close enough to the blast to get parts of it in me, but it sent me flying backward. The shock wave from it damaged a part of my eye called the retina. The retina is the part that lets you see. There was no way to fix it, so I've not been able to see since the moment of the blast. Does that answer your question, Chris?"

"Yes, Daddy. Were you scared when you couldn't see anymore?"

"Yeah. I was very scared. It took me quite a while not to be scared, too. Mommy didn't know me then, but I was not much fun to be around for a long time. Then I got used to being blind and decided that it really wasn't that bad."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Christopher said while patting his father's cheek with his tiny hand.

"What are you sorry about, son?"

"I'm sorry the bad man made you be blind."

"It's okay, Chris. I don't mind now. Don't feel sorry for me."

"What happened to the bad man that made you blind?"

"It took a few years, but he was captured and punished for being a bad man and doing bad things besides making me blind." Auggie thought for a moment about his role in the capture of Khani – but also known to him as Nasir. Annie placed a reassuring hand on Auggie's arm.

"What's the matter, Daddy?"

"Nothing, Chris," Auggie said while he shook Annie's hand, and the thoughts of his fight with Khani, off. That was a long time ago, and water long under the bridge. "I was just having unkind thoughts about the man who blinded me. He's been punished for what he did, so I shouldn't really be having them anymore. Now, if I've sufficiently answered your question, I need to talk to Mommy. … Now, do you have anymore questions?"

"Yes, daddy. Why does Mommy use strange words when she's mad at something?"

Auggie smiled as Annie swatted him on the shoulder. "Good luck with that one mister," she said and laughed lightly.


	21. A Bad Day

_Savor these next few stories - they may be the last for a while. A Troll seems to have kidnapped my Muse. No I'm not being a 'drama queen', nor am I looking for more comments. Traffic to my stories and your comments have been most satisfying. The sad fact is that a recurring health problem seems to have once again put in an appearance. Fighting it consumes my time and saps my energy. If treatment is not too long or too debilitating, I hope to be back soon. If not ... It's been a fun year. Well, almost a year._

_A casual conversation with a blind friend inspired this story._

_Mandy58 has looked it over and made a suggestion or two. One I took, the other I considered. Otherwise the warts in this one are all my own._

_I still have no financial interest in the original Covert Affairs or Annie and Auggie._

* * *

><p>Auggie methodically sorted through the dirty clothes in the laundry bag from his suitcase. Socks, underwear, and t-shirts went into one pile, the oxford shirts into another, and his jeans and jean shorts into yet another. The few pieces of unworn clothing went back into drawers or back on hangers in the closet. The dress shirts went into the laundry service's bag, the jeans into the laundry basket in the corner of his closet. Once his now empty suitcase was stowed on the upper shelf of the closet Auggie gathered the pile of socks, underwear and t-shirts and headed down the hallway. He paused in the laundry area just long enough to start the load of clothes he'd toted with him.<p>

That task completed, Auggie ventured into the kitchen. He rummaged around in the refrigerator to figure out what fresh vegetables Annie had resupplied – or IF Annie had resupplied the groceries while he'd been gone. He was hoping to have dinner on the table by the time she got home from Langley tonight. She had been on a mission to Paris again when he'd left four days ago to go back to Glencoe for a long weekend with his parents and siblings to celebrate his father's seventy-second birthday.

He found the ingredients for chef's salads. Locating an appropriately sized pot in the lower cabinet, Auggie filled it with water and put three eggs in to boil. Using the raised dots on the ceramic cooktop as a guide, he centered the pot full of water and eggs on the appropriate burner before he turned it on and set braille timer. Then he pulled two salad bowls from the upper cabinet.

He was just getting started on slicing the cucumber when the front door to the condo opened signaling Annie's arrival. From the sounds of her footfalls, Auggie could tell that she was tired. She closed and locked the door and then paused for a moment. When he no longer heard her heels on the wood floor he knew that she'd taken off her shoes at the front door. That only meant one thing – her feet hurt, too. A quick grin lifted the corners of his lips. Later he'd be giving her a foot massage. He look forward to that.

"You're home!" Annie exclaimed excitedly as she came around the corner from the hallway into the kitchen.

"Yeah, got here about an hour ago. Rough day?"

"Not particularly rough; just long," Annie replied setting her shoes on the floor at the end of island. "Here let me take over getting supper. You look even more tired than I feel. Chef's salads?"

"No. I can do this," Auggie replied forcefully.

"Auggie?" Annie said, hurt evident in her tone.

"I wanted to fix you supper tonight for a change," he replied in a bit softer voice.

"Can I help?"

"I'm perfectly capable –"

"I know you are … What happened that's made you so touchy?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Auggie replied beginning to carefully take one more slice from the cucumber.

"Auggie –"

"I said that I don't want to talk about it!" The knife was gently taken from his hand and laid on the countertop. Annie took his face in her hands.

"Which one of your brothers –"

"You're not going to drop this until I tell you, are you?"

"No. Tell me which one of your brothers –"

"Anthony, but he didn't start it. It all started after the car service dropped me off at the airport. Traveler's Aid came to assist me with a wheelchair. It took me close to five minutes to convince him that I didn't need the wheelchair the we could just go sighted guide. That seemed to set the tone for the whole trip. The flight and the cabin attendants were great. Flying first class does have some perks. But at the other end, it all started again. Traveler's Aid met me with another wheelchair. Absolutely refused to give in to me – said she had to take the wheelchair with her and I might as well ride; I finally just stopped arguing and let her push me in the wheelchair. Tony drew the short straw and was sent to gather me and my suitcase from the airport. When I arrived at baggage claim in the wheelchair he didn't know quite what to think. He never did get that comfortable around me, showing up in the chair just put him over the top."

"That must have been embarrassing," Annie interjected while placing a comforting hand on her husband's arm.

"More than embarrassing. Downright humiliating. Tony was so uncomfortable with sighted guide that he treated me like a fragile piece of china or something. But even being extra cautious with me, if I hadn't been using my cane as a bumper he would have accidently ran me into a doorjamb. Then, later when us guys went out to dinner that night the place didn't have an up-to-date braille menu, so Austin wound up reading the menu to me. Then the server never addressed me directly but through Austin. It was just one thing like that after another. I've grown so comfortable with you and the people at work knowing me so well and what I'm capable of and what I could use a bit of help with, that I forget just how others see not only me, but other blind people, as incompetent to function on my … our … own. Try as I might I couldn't get people to stop doing things for me that I'm quite capable of doing for myself."

"Auggie, dear –"

"Yes, love?"

"You're back amongst people now that know better. The only person that you have anything to prove to is yourself. And you already know that you're a very competent and capable person. Even blind you do some things very well that many sighted people struggle with. … Now, what may I do to help you get our dinner on the table?"

The timer for the eggs dinged on the counter behind them. Auggie sighed softly. "I guess you can start grilling the chicken and take care of the eggs."

"I can do that," Annie replied cheerily as she crossed the kitchen to the cooktop.

Twenty minutes later, with table set and salads assembled, Annie asked Auggie, after a bite of her salad, "Even given the negatives of the trip, did you have a good time with your brothers and father?"

Auggie shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. It could have gone better; but it could have gone much worse, too. Mom still gets upset when she sees me using the cane. I don't know how to deal with that. And outside of Tony treating me like I'd break if he let me out of his sight, the rest just sort of let me be myself. I had to ask for assistance a lot, they didn't know to anticipate the little things like you've always done. I missed that. I missed you. … How was Paris?"


	22. The Dance

Thank you to all who have express support for me since the last chapter. I'm comfortated.

This is the next to the last story that's complete. There's one more that I'll post sometime within the next week. This will be it for a while. Health problem still not diagnosed, but the muse is busy being preoccupied.

Mandy has done her blue. And I still don't own Covert Affairs.

* * *

><p>Annie Anderson paused in reading the list she was holding to look at her daughter, Corrine. She was dancing around the living room in her bare feet; the nine-year-old was surprisingly graceful. Corrine might look like a gangly young lady, but she commanded her body with the grace of an athlete. Well, dancers were athletes of sorts.<p>

Looking back at the list, Annie noted that her daughter was going to need a new leotard, tights, and ballet slippers. That was okay, the leotard and slippers she had were just about too small. In the last few months it was surprising how much the girl had grown. She'd shot up a whole inch in just the last six months.

"Mom, watch this," Corrine said as she did a pirouette in the center of the living room floor.

"Very nice form," her mother replied. Corrine had been studying ballet since she was a three-year-old. Now she'd also recently taken up the clarinet. Of her two children, Corrine was the one that was the most active in extra-curricular activities. Her son, Christopher, played baseball quite well, but much preferred to listen to music than actually make it. Both her children excelled in the academic world, so whatever they wanted to do outside of school was fine with her and her husband, although juggling the schedules sometimes seemed daunting – dance, soccer, and clarinet for Corrine were the most challenging scheduling; sometimes the dance and soccer schedules conflicted and a choice had to be made.

"Come on, Corry," Annie beckoned. "It's time to go shopping for your recital outfit. I'll meet you in the car; I'm going to go let Dad know we're leaving now."

"Okay, Mom," Corrine acknowledged as she bounded out of the room.

Annie took a few steps down the hallway to her husband's refuge. "Auggie," she said rapping her fist on the doorjamb. "Auggie, Corry and I are leaving to go shopping for her recital clothes. Do you need anything while we're out? Or before we go?"

"I can't think of anything that I need," Auggie said shaking his head. His fingers hardly paused as they flew across the braille page in this lap.

"Okay. Chris should be home soon from spending the night with his friend Harrison. There's stuff in the 'fridge for the two of you for lunch. Corry and I will probably grab a bite while we're out. A bit of girl bonding time."

"Just don't spend all our money at the dancewear place," Auggie kidded as his hands moved from one page to the next.

Annie grinned at the quip and replied, "I can't. I spent it all at the grocery store last night. Your son is about to eat us out of house and home."

"Yeah, he's at that age, isn't he?"

"Yeah, I'm off, now. And I don't know how your mom ever kept enough food in the house for five growing boys."

Auggie smiled amusedly.

# # # # #

"No, Daddy. More rounded – like you're holding a big beach ball. … That's it. Now make a turn around and come back to this position. That's a pirouette. I do it on one leg, though." Corrine instructed her father. "… This is an arabesque penchée, Daddy. I do this near the end of the group dance." She pronounced the term in perfect French.

Auggie guided his hands along his daughter's body, arms and legs – picturing the position they were in. "You've got to be very strong to hold this position for very long," he commented.

"Yeah, I guess," Corrine mumbled as she came out of that pose and struck another. "This is a petite battement."

Once again Auggie's hands ghosted along his daughter's legs and body. He felt the movement of Corrine's leg as she performed the position. A thin grin spread across his face. This was Corrine's idea. She'd started 'showing' him her positions and poses shortly after she'd began taking dance classes when she was three – six years now. Corrine had grown in so many ways in those six years.

Auggie could not help but wonder what kind of woman his daughter would grow into. She loved dance and music; and had her mother's ear for languages – she could glide seamlessly between English, French, Russian and Arabic. When he came home he never knew what kind of music would be coming from his daughter's room: Jazz, Classical, Oldies from way back in the last century, or modern contemporary stuff.

Wrapping his arms around his daughter he whispered, "I love you, Corry."

# # # # #

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Corrine Anderson asked her father as he stood in the middle of the family room tying his tie.

"I'm getting ready to go to your recital, Sweet Pea. It is this afternoon isn't it?"

"Yes, it's this afternoon," Corrine replied. "But you don't have to come. It's got to be terminally boring for you. I've shown you my dances."

Auggie reached out for his daughter. "Where are you?" he asked quietly, almost under his breath.

Corrine took a few steps farther into the room and bumped her shoulder into her father's outstretched hand. He placed both his hands on her shoulders and titled his head a bit downward. "Terminally boring? Where did you come up with that? You are right about one thing, I can't see you dance, but your mother describes your movements beautifully. And, yes, you have shown me the movements that you make, so it's not boring at all. I love to know what you're doing on stage," he said and patted his daughter on the cheek. "And there's the music and the socializing," he added as his hands went back to his tie. He hoped he'd been convincing; truth be told there were a dozen other places that he'd rather be this afternoon. He didn't mind her soccer games, but the dance recitals had always been a challenge for him to get enthusiastic about – not so much Corrine's parts, but the parts of the other dancers he did not know. But he went to each and every one of them. The last thing he wanted to be was an unsupportive father. He'd spoken to other fathers of girls – fathers who could see their daughters dance – and he took a bit of comfort in knowing that he was not the only father who came to recitals out of obligation.

"Dad, do I gotta go to Corry's recital today?" Christopher whined from the kitchen.

"Yes, Christopher, you do. We are a family and support each other. Corrine comes to your ballgames without complaining. You can do the same for her," his father commanded.

"I don't mind her soccer games, but these dance recitals …"

"Christopher, that is quite enough. You're going. That's final," Auggie said with a bit of irritation.

In the kitchen Christopher huffed in frustration.

"I heard that, Christopher. I've had quite enough attitude today. Your sister is dancing one of the leads. That's quite an honor. You will honor her with your presence."

"Okay, Dad," Christopher said contritely. "Are we at least going out to eat somewhere good afterward?"

"If you behave and cut the attitude we just might," Auggie replied firmly as he snugged up his tie. "Now, I believe that your mother and sister are on their way out to the car."

# # # # #

"Here, Dad, hold these for me for a minute while I fix my hair a bit," Corrine said as she thrust her ballet shoes into her father's hand. Awkwardly he closed his hands around the ribbons.

After tucking his folded cane under his left arm, Auggie cocked his head slightly to one side as he examined the items dangling from the ribbons that his daughter had just pushed into his hand. A slight frown came to him as his fingers examined the toe of what were obviously his daughter's ballet slippers. "Pointe shoes?" he asked with a tone of dismay. "You're too young, Corry. What is your teacher thinking?"

"Demi-pointe shoes, Dad. I AM too young to go on pointe. I do a few preliminary pointe steps now and then, but just a few here and there. It's getting me ready to go en pointe in a few years. Teacher is very firm on that point. How do you know about pointe shoes anyway? And what's too young to go en pointe?"

"I've done my research," Auggie replied simply. "I wanted to know as much about what you're doing as I can. You've done your part to educate me on the things that you do, but I need to know more so that I can truly appreciate all that you do."

Taking her shoes back from her father, Corrine tugged on his tie a bit. He bent over at the waist and his daughter gently kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you came, Daddy," she whispered before bouncing off backstage in the small assembly hall in the elementary school where the recital was being held. "Got to go now. Catch ya later."

Auggie turned toward Annie. "Is she telling me the truth? Her teacher isn't pushing pointe work on her too early?"

"She's being straight with you. Corry wants to go en pointe now. Teacher says no. They've compromised. A few steps here and there in this routine are all she's allowed. Corry's happy with that."

She brushed her hand against her husband's and they worked their way through the somewhat crowded room to where Christopher waited – slumped with arms crossed across his chest – in the second row from the front. When they arrived at the row, Auggie entered first and took the seat next to his son while Annie took the aisle seat.

Over the next few minutes different mother's stopped by to chat briefly with Annie and Auggie. Finally the director of the dance school came out from behind the curtain and welcomed the audience and introduced the first group of dancers – the three and four year olds. Annie leaned over to Auggie and concisely described the scene to him.

Over the next forty-five minutes Annie did the same as different classes performed. Interspersed between the group dances, various individuals in the advanced classes showcased their talents. As the very familiar opening strains of the Dramatic Waltz from the Seven Beauties reached his ears, Auggie leaned over to Annie. "Corry, right?"

"Yes, Corry's dancing now," Annie acknowledged.

To his right Christopher shifted position in his seat. From his left Annie began to describe Corrine's dance. "Chasse, pas de bourree … pique turn, pique turn, pique turn …"

As the music ended and the audience gently applauded, Christopher stood and called out enthusiastically, "Way to go, sis!"

Auggie reached out and pulled his son back down into his seat. "Not appropriate here," he whispered tersely. "I'm glad that you think your sister did well, but that's really not the way to do it in these circumstances. Now stay IN your seat until it's time to leave."

A pleased smile worked its way across Auggie's features even as a momentary desire to have been able to actually see his daughter's dance flashed through his thoughts. The two women in his life had tried their best to allow him to appreciate the dance, but it wasn't quite the same. Still, he loved them that much more for their efforts.


	23. The Storm

**_This is the last of the stories that I've gotten completed and ready to post. There's on in the works, but it's been that way for over a month with little progress forward. Health concerns are still present, but somewhat less ominous than feared._**

**_Mandy has had her say._**

**_I still don't own Covert Affairs or the original Auggie and Annie._**

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson," the receptionist at the daycare center welcomed. "Wait out here and I'll go bring your children out to you. Mrs. Anderson left their car seats this morning, just in case." The door to the main corridor opened and closed.<p>

Auggie sighed with exasperation. He _was_ perfectly capable of finding his children's rooms and locating his own child within it, but try as he might, he could not convince this receptionist of that. He'd given up on even trying to sometime last year. Now he just waited for her to come back with his children. He'd stepped out of the main pathway from the entranceway to the corridor into the classroom portion of the building. In doing so the back of his leg brushed against something lined up against the wall. Auggie turned and squatted down to examined the item – a car seat. Further examination determined that it was his daughter's, Corrine, seat. Picking it up, he headed out the door and to the car service vehicle. He hadn't taken but two steps when the car seat was taken from him.

"I'll get this in the car properly for you, Mr. Anderson," his driver offered.

"Thanks, Landon." Auggie went back inside to try to locate Christopher's booster seat. With a couple of sweeps of his cane he found another object on the floor beside the door. Once again he squatted down and examined the item. It was, indeed, his son's booster seat.

He'd just come back inside the building when the interior door opened and two pair of running feet came rushing toward him. Auggie braced himself for the enthusiastic greeting of his children. Little boy and girl shrieks of "Daddy, daddy, daddy," echoed in the small reception area. Small arms wrapped themselves around his legs. Only then did he squat down to properly hug his children.

After the group hug of his son and daughter, Auggie stood up. "Thank you, Ms. Miller, for gathering my children for me," he said as he picked Corrine up. Christopher went ahead and opened the door for him.

"Well, hi, there Chris," the car service driver greeted. "Come on over here and we'll get you ready to go home. Corrine's car seat is on that side for you Mr. Anderson. I'll let you get Corry, while I get Chris ready."

"Works for me, Landon," Auggie said as he removed Corrine's backpack and put her in her seat. Carefully he began to adjust the straps around her.

The day was hot and humid and he so wanted to get home. Storms were forecast for later and he didn't relish the idea of being out in one. He could feel, and, yes, even smell, the potential for storms that hung heavily in the air.

He finished snugging up the straps over Corrine's tiny body, then shut the car's door. Opening the front passenger door he climbed in and buckled his own seatbelt. Landon had already buckled Christopher in and was in the driver's seat. He started the car and pulled out of the daycare drive.

It wasn't long before Auggie was stepping out of the car in his own driveway. He shut the front passenger door and opened the rear. Then he reversed the order of what he'd done at the daycare to get Corrine out of the car. He ended with putting her backpack on and setting her on the porch steps. "Go to the backdoor, honey," he commanded her firmly. "That's a good girl. Daddy and brother will be there in a minute."

"Here's Chris' booster seat," Landon said as he came around the back of the car. "You go in and take care of your children. I'll get the car seat out and put it on the porch in the corner for you."

"Thanks, Landon. It's nights like this one that I really appreciate your willingness to go a bit above and beyond for me."

"T'ain't nothing, Mr. Anderson. I don't mind at all. It's not easy wrangling two kids anyway. It's got to be harder when you can't see what's going on."

Auggie laughed heartily. "There _are_ days when I wonder how I got myself into this in the first place. … Christopher?"

"Right here, Daddy," the little boy said from the top of the stairs.

"You got all your stuff out of the car?"

"Yes, Daddy. And Corry's got her stuff. Your cane's on the back floor. Don't forget that."

"Thanks buddy," Auggie said as he reached into the back floorboard and quickly scanned it. Easily finding the cane he grabbed it and closed the door.

"I'll see you at the usual time in the morning?" Landon asked as he moved around the car to the driver's door.

"Unless we get blown away by the storm that's coming," Auggie remarked.

"You really think it's going to storm tonight? They've been saying that for the last three days and we've got bupkiss."

"It's going to storm. I don't know how badly; but it's going to storm. I feel it tonight. Didn't the last couple even though the weatherman said it would."

"I'll take your feeling over the weatherman any day. I'll see you in the morning," Landon said as he began to take the car seat out of the car.

Auggie mounted the steps, crossed the porch and stuck his key in the door. Once inside, after laying his cane and keys on the counter beside the door and while the kids were taking care of their backpacks, he went to the TV in the family room and turned it on to the local weather. He listened for a few minutes then went into the bedroom to change out of his suit and tie into something more comfortable. A few minutes later he emerged in a pair of jean shorts, golf shirt and a pair of leather thong sandals.

"Christopher," he called as he came out of the bedroom and started down the hall toward the kitchen.

"Yes, Daddy," the little boy responded. "I'm in my room."

"Where's your sister and what's she up to?"

"She just went potty and is now in here with me. We're going to watch 'Finding Nemo'. Can you make us some popcorn?"

"When Mommy come home?" Corrine asked from where she lay on the floor.

"I don't know when Mommy will be home, honey. You're stuck with me for a while. Chris, if there's any popcorn I'll make some for you and your sister. I might need you to come help me find it. Can you be Daddy's eyes if he needs help?"

"Yes, Daddy. Just call if you need me."

In the kitchen pantry Auggie went directly to the shelf where the snacks were kept. He sorted through the various boxes, reading the braille labels – three separate boxes of fruit rollups, several boxes of different types of crackers and two unlabeled boxes. He was about to give up and call Christopher when his hand brushed against a single cellophane wrapped package that was the right shape and feel for a package of microwave popcorn.

"Daddy?" the small boy's voice said from the doorway.

"What is it Chris?"

"Need some help?"

"Is this popcorn or something else?" Auggie asked holding out the packet.

"Popcorn."

"Thanks, buddy. I've got it handled now." He moved out of pantry and firmly closed its door behind him. As he crossed to the built-in microwave, Auggie ripped open the packet. Tiny feet retreated into the other part of the house.

While the popcorn was popping, Auggie found the plastic bowls Annie used for child-sized snacks and the lidded plastic glasses with the straw built in to the lid. Opening the refrigerator door he examined the bottles in the door until he located the Hi-C Fruit Punch. By the time the popcorn finished he'd poured two glasses of the fruit punch and snapped the lids on the glasses, then he got the bag of popcorn out of the microwave and shook out portions into the two bowls.

Tucking the drink glasses carefully into the front pockets of his shorts, Auggie grabbed the bowls of popcorn and cautiously made his way out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Following the sound of childish laughter he located the door to Christopher's room. "Here ya go kids," he said squatting down beside his children and holding out the bowls. When the bowls were taken from his hands he reached for the drinks and held them out, too.

From the TV in the family room a tone announced a weather advisory scrolling across the screen.

"You two set for a little while?" Auggie asked in a fatherly manner.

"Uh-huh," the distracted children responded.

"Good, Daddy's going to the family room," Auggie said rising from his squatting position and moving quickly out of the room.

In the family room he fired up his laptop and quickly went to the local TV station's weather webpage. There he learned that Fairfax County, Virginia was under a severe thunderstorm warning. In the distance thunder rumbled.

In this situation – impending severe weather – Auggie usually let Annie take over parenting duties while he went into the bedroom, closed the door and paced. Since childhood he'd been noticeably nervous when severe weather was in the area, and the tornado the weekend he'd proposed to Annie had done little to alleviate his fears. Fears that he did not want to communicate to his children.

Outside the thunder was getting closer and the wind was beginning to whip through the trees on the property. Auggie took a few deep, calming breaths and willed his nerves to remain calm. The action had moderate effect on him. At least he was not outwardly shaking. He went to the back door and stepped out onto the porch. After a few moments of awkward searching, he located the car seat and the booster seat that Landon had left on the porch and brought them in to the house.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Christopher asked as he rounded the corner from hallway to family room.

"Just getting the car seats in off the porch so they don't get wet," Auggie replied matter-of-factly. "Do I need to go and take in the patio umbrella?"

Christopher went to the backdoor. "No, it's not out there," Christopher replied and shut the back door.

"Thanks, Little Buddy," Auggie praised his son. "Don't know what I'd do sometimes without your eyes."

"It's okay Daddy. Mommy makes me check on things too sometimes and she can see."

"Okay, then. Go back and watch the movie with your sister. The storm will be over soon. Just going to get a bit noisy outside I think."

Christopher headed back down the hallway to the playroom.

A few minutes later the thunder crashed overhead and the TV in the family room went off. Somewhere down the street a car alarm went off. In the playroom Corrine was crying, "Daddy!" Outside the wind whistled through the trees and their branches slapped against the windows.

"It's okay, kids. Daddy's coming," Auggie said as calmly as he could as he hustled down the hallway. When he reached the playroom he called out, "Christopher, Corrine, come to Daddy. We're going to the bathroom until this storm is over." He held out his hands and small hands firmly grasped them. Scooping up Corrine into his arms Auggie moved across the hall and placed her in the bathtub. "Okay, Christopher, get in the tub beside your sister," Auggie ordered firmly. Then he climbed in and sheltered his children with his own body.

Outside the storm intensified and hail beat against the roof, porch decks and widows. In the family room a window broke. In the bathroom both children whimpered even though Auggie spoke soothingly to them. As soon as the worst of the storm passed, Auggie raised himself from where he lay on the children. He sat cross-legged on the floor with his back against the tub, but wouldn't let Corrine or Christopher out of it quite yet. When the phone in his pocket began to warble the tone he'd given Annie, Auggie startled a bit.

"Hi," Auggie answered once he'd dug the phone from his pocket.

"Are you and the kids okay?" the concerned voice of his wife asked. "There's been reports of heavy damage in our general area."

"We're physically okay. The kids are kind of scared. I heard a window break but haven't checked that out yet. We're still in the kid's bathroom. Oh, and the power's out."

"You and the kids stay in the house until you hear from me again. I'm going to try to get there as quickly as I can. If I can't get there …"

"If you can't get here in the car, I'm sure you can get close enough to walk here."

"I'll see you in a little bit," Annie said and hung up.

"Daddy, can we get out of here now?" Christopher whined.

"Yeah, I guess so," Auggie replied. "Chris, I really am going to need your eyes in a few minutes. We need to go see how many windows are broken …"

"Okay!" Christopher said excitedly. "I get to help with something important." Christopher climbed out of the tub and headed toward the door.

"Not so fast, there, buddy," Auggie said and caught his son's arm. "You're not going out there without me."

"Well, get a move on it then," Christopher retorted in his child-like manner.

A bit over half-an-hour later Annie came through the back door. She found her husband and children in the children's dimly lit playroom. Auggie was reading them a story from one of the braille children's books from the bookshelf.

"It's not too bad out there around here. I did have to take a circuitous route to get here though. A couple of the roads were blocked by trees or power lines across them. Looks like we're going to need a new window."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely a new window. I've called the insurance company. We're on the list for the adjuster to come see tomorrow. Chip from across the street came over and checked on us. He's gone to the lumberyard to get some plywood to temporarily fix some damage to his place. He's getting enough to board up our broken window, too. When he gets back he's going to help me do that."

"While we're waiting for him to come back and get the window boarded up, we need to pack suitcases for a few days at Danielle's. She says that we can come and stay until the power is back on and the window fixed."

"You and the kids can go. I'll stay here. I don't need the power …"

"We ARE going, Auggie. All of us. It's just for a couple of days," Annie stated firmly.

"Yes, ma'am," Auggie said contritely.

At his side Christopher giggled.

"What's so funny, Chris?" Auggie asked his son with a mildly irritated tone.

"Guess Mommy told you," Christopher replied.

Auggie set the book aside and sighed. "Yes, I believe that she did," Auggie said and smiled. He scooted Corrine from his lap, stood up and moved to where Annie stood in the doorway. She wrapped her arms around him comfortingly.

"I'm so proud of the way you seem to have handled this storm. I know you must have been nervous," Annie whispered in her husband's ear as she hugged him reassuringly.

"I tried to remain calm. It was hard, but I do believe that I managed that," Auggie replied modestly.

* * *

><p>A comment or two would be appreciated. About the story. Don't dispair too much. I'll be back - someday. At least I hope so.<p> 


	24. Auggie's Dilemma

Things are not totally good with me, but better enough that the muse decided to come out and play for a bit. This is the result. I'm rather happy with it.

Mandy58 has looked it over, made a few suggestions, and deemed it fit for your consumption.

I still don't own Annie or Auggie. Or even Covert Affairs. Can't wait for the rest of season two and eagerly looking forward to season three. Season Three - that has a nice ring to it.

* * *

><p>Auggie exited the office of the Director of National Intelligence and pulled the door closed behind him. He paused for several moments gathering his thoughts. What the DNI just asked him to do was mind-boggling. He shook his head a bit and clicked on his laser cane.<p>

A few minutes later he was back in his office settling back into his chair. He sighed deeply as he once again thought of what the DNI had told him. There was a decision to be made and he couldn't make it alone. One way or the other, there were huge ramifications to his decision. But, he couldn't think of that now; he had a code to crack.

Despite his resolve not to, Auggie could not help but let his mind wander to the possibilities, but also to the liabilities. The liabilities for him were not so great, but for Annie and his children the liabilities could be overwhelming. His mind kept mulling over the negatives; he knew that he'd not get any real work done until he talked this over with Annie. Picking up his cane, Auggie headed out to the office where Annie now worked.

# # # # #

Annie looked up at the gentle knock on her doorjamb. She was slightly surprised to see her husband standing in the doorway. "Annie?" he asked tentatively.

"Come in, Auggie. I'm over here," Annie said while closing the file on her desk more from habit than necessity. "What brings you over here at this time of day? Not time for lunch yet, and definitely not quitting time."

Auggie entered his wife's office, closing the door behind him. He crossed the few feet to the pair of chairs in front of Annie's desk and settled into one of them. "We've got to talk. I don't quite know what to do about something."

"What is it, dear?" Annie asked with alarm beginning to enter her voice. She rose from her place behind the desk and moved to lean against the front edge of it, just inches away from her husband.

"I've just come from a meeting with the DNI. He offered me that position of Deputy Director of Intelligence."

"That's wonderful Auggie!" Annie's voice was filled with pride.

"I'm torn about it. I know how taking it will affect me. But I don't live in a vacuum. It will have repercussions for you and the children also. And it could change my relationship with my family, too. Right now all I can think of are the negatives."

"Auggie, you've got to take it. It's a great position. I'm so proud that they want you."

"You are? I'll be overt. Everyone will know what I've been doing for the last twenty some years. And if I take it, it might mean that people know what you've been doing, too. I mean – think about it, Annie. Are you ready for the questions from friends and family who …"

"Auggie, I haven't been in the field in a long time; and have no overwhelming desire to go out again. I'm happy here, translating and decoding. The thing is – do you want to go overt now? Remember what happened when you were promoted to OCA."

"I'm more ready now than I was then," Auggie replied firmly. "And you know the only reason I took that back then."

"Yeah, I do. And how long did it take you to actually tell me that? Too damn long, buster. I still wonder sometimes how many other things you did for me back then … That was more than friendship August."

The corners of Auggie's mouth twitched upward for just a moment. "What can I say? You were a good friend, Anne Catherine. I didn't want to lose you. The company didn't need to lose a good operative, either."

"And I know better now. I know now that you loved me, even back then," Annie said softly, placing her hands on his shoulders.

Auggie shrugged his shoulders. "And you had strong feelings for me then, too."

"So, what if I did? We are here, now, an old married couple with two kids. What's to think about? I'm behind you 100% … whatever you decide about the promotion."

"It's going to change things, Annie. Personally. Professionally. And financially. Are you ready for that?"

"Yeah. It will change our dynamic here, but it won't change a thing at home. … Or is that what you're afraid of – that it will change things at home?

"I will be your boss here if I take the promotion. I know that it may change the way we can interact here, but I do not expect that it will change anything at home. You'll still be in charge there," Auggie said and winked.

Annie lightly slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand and laughed softly.

"So, you're okay with me becoming the DDI?"

"Of course I'm okay with that. You'd be a fool not to take it. And you, August Anderson, are no fool. Now go. Go back to work. We can discuss this more later at home if we need to."

# # # # #

Over dinner that evening Auggie brought up his pending promotion to the children when his son asked why he appeared more pensive than usual.

"Yes, Chris, I am a bit more thoughtful this evening. I've been offered a new job and I'm mulling over the few pros and lots of cons in taking it on."

"What would you be doing, Dad?" Corrine piped in. "Would we have to move?"

"I've been offered the position of Deputy Director of Intelligence at the CIA over at Langley. I'd be responsible for keeping the country safe from threats foreign and domestic. I'd be taking on a lot more responsibility than I have now. I'd be dealing with the White House and Congress. I might be seen on TV in news footage. It could make all of our lives a bit more complicated." Auggie sighed in frustration. "I've got to give the Director of National Intelligence an answer by Noon tomorrow …"

"Dad, what's the head of IT for the Pentagon doing getting asked to head the CIA?" Christopher asked with curiosity.

"Not head it, but assist in running it. The thing is Chris … I've never worked for the Pentagon. I've always been CIA. I've spent my entire career being a spy on one level or another."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table. Then Corrine spoke up, "Mom, did you know Dad was a spy when you married him?"

"Yes, Corry. I've always known what Daddy did for a living. He was the head of the Technical Operations division there when I met him. I've always been very proud of what he does. And I'm extremely pleased that he's being considered for the position of DDI. It means that his superiors have confidence in him and respect his abilities. Yes, there are many drawbacks to his taking the position … not the least of which is our friends and family learning he's been lying to them for decades … but I still think that he should take it. What do you kids think?"

Thirteen-year-old Christopher was the first to speak up, "I've suspected for a long time that you didn't work at the Pentagon, but for the CIA. Don't ask how I knew, I just did. I think that you should take the position, Dad. It's a big promotion for you."

"Yeah, Dad, go for it. I'll be extra proud of you."

"That settles it then," Annie said with a smile evident in her tone. "You have to take the position, Dear. Your children and I think you should take it."

"I'm glad you think that way, but it's still my decision and …"

# # # # #

Later, after the dinner dishes were cleared and the kids were finishing up their homework, Auggie slipped into his home office and picked up the phone from its charging cradle. He bounced the phone in his hand for a few moments before he began to punch a number into it. After a few rings the phone on the other end was picked up. "Hi, Auggie. What has you calling at this hour in the middle of the week?" his sister-in-law Jenna asked pointedly.

"Is my brother home? I need to talk to the both of you."

"This doesn't sound good," Jenna said with concern edging into her voice. She didn't bother to cover the mouthpiece of her phone as she called to her husband: _'Austin, it's Augs; he needs to talk to both of us. Pick up the phone in there.'_

Immediately his brother Austin was on the line, too. "What's wrong, Augs?" Austin asked his brother with concern.

"You there, too, Jenna?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I've got to tell you both something and I'm not at all sure how you're going to take it. But I need to tell all of my brothers and their wives something about me that I've been withholding from you for a very, very long time. I don't work for the Pentagon. I've never worked at the Pentagon. I've been a covert officer for the CIA since I graduated from college."

"You've been what?" Austin asked incuriously.

"I've been a spy for the last twenty years, Austin."

"You've been lying to us all this time?" Austin asked in a tone that Auggie had not heard from his brother in a long time – hurt. Auggie closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "I … Why are you telling us now? What's happened?"

"I couldn't tell you before. Mostly for my safety, but also for yours. I'm being promoted. I'll be losing my covert status when I take the position of Deputy Director of Intelligence. Due to my circumstances, I'm sure that the media will be all over this. A blind man running an agency like that CIA doesn't happen every day. I didn't want you to learn about my real job by hearing it on the news."

"That means that you were CIA when …"

"Yeah. I was covert when I lost my sight. The agency found a way to keep me working for them. I've been head of the Technical Operations division since I went back to work after I was blinded. I was still gathering intelligence, just not out in the field anymore. I can't tell you any more than that. I'm sorry."

"That's a lot to take in, Augs," Jenna said quietly.

"I know. I just hope that it doesn't change everything between up now," Auggie replied. One of the lines was hung up. "Jenna?"

"She's hung up, Augs. And I'm about to. Congratulations on the promotion. … Oh, am I the first or the last to hear about this?"

"The first. I'm closest to you. If you took it okay, maybe the other brothers would to."

"I'm not sure how I feel about this, Augs. I'll be in touch once I wrap my head around all of this." The line went dead and Auggie punched the end call button. "Well, that could have gone better," he stated to Annie who had just entered the room.

"Which brother was that?" Annie asked quietly.

"Austin. Not surprisingly he feels betrayed. Jenna's hurt, too. She just hung up on me. Austin at least congratulated me." He leaned back in his desk chair, the hand holding the handset limp in his lap.

Annie patted her husband on the shoulder reassuringly. "He'll come around. They're going to be so proud of their baby brother. Just like your wife and children are."

"I can only hope that's the case," Auggie replied as he sat forward in his seat. He punched another series of numbers into the handset. It rang twice before being picked up. "Alan, Auggie here. I've got something I need to tell you …"

"What's up, bro?"

"I'm being promoted, Alan. You're talking to the new Deputy Director of Intelligence at the CIA.

"Really? That's wonderful. You finally decided to lose your covert status, huh?"

"Yeah, you don't have to keep quiet that your baby brother's a spy anymore."

"Well, it's not been easy to do that at times, but I never have let it slip," Alan confided. "Have you said anything to the other guys yet?"

"Just got off the phone with Austin."

"How did that go?"

"Jenna hung up on me, and Austin is very upset with me. He said he'd get back to me when he'd managed to wrap his head around it all. I just hope it doesn't take him six months like it did you to get over my deception."

"It's hard telling how long it will take him. You've always been closer to him than to any of the rest of us. I'm sure he's wondering why you couldn't confide in him."

"And it's not going to do your relationship with any of them much good if they find out that you've known all along."

"Let me worry about that. They might just never hear about it. I've kept quiet this long, I can take it to the grave with me. I can act hurt and angry, too."

"I bet you can, Alan, I bet you can. I've got to go so I can call Adam next. I should call Tony next, but I don't think he's going to care one way or the other."

"He might surprise you, but I'd still leave him for last. Congratulations, Auggie. I'll talk to you soon."

A pleased smile worked its way across Auggie's face, and then dissolved into a concerned look as he dialed yet another number. Adam answered on the third ring, "Hiya, Auggie. What's up?"

"Is Livvie around, too? Need to tell the two of you something and I'd rather both of you hear it right from me than one of you getting it second-hand."

"What's wrong Auggie? I'm putting you on speaker. Livvie's right here."

"Nothing's wrong here. Something is very good here, but I'm not sure how you're going to take it."

"Auggie?" Olivia's voice came in clearly.

"This is hard for me to say, and is going to be hard for you to hear, but I've been lying to both of you for the last twenty years. For the last twenty some years I've been a covert officer with the CIA. I've never been in the Pentagon, let alone worked there." Auggie steeled his nerves for the recriminations he knew were coming.

"And you're telling us this now because …" Olivia stated a few moments later.

"Because I'm being promoted to the position of Deputy Director of Intelligence and will be losing my covert status. Before this week is out, the nation and a good part of the world will know that the CIA has a blind man in charge of gathering intelligence."

"That's wonderful news, Auggie," Adam exclaimed. Pride laced his tone. "I'm so happy for you."

"You are? No feelings of betrayal? No hurt because I've been lying to you for decades?"

"None, Auggie. You've always been a good liar. That you've managed to pull the wool over our eyes for that long just proves it. Livvie is sitting here beaming from ear to ear with happiness and pride in you. We're very happy for you little brother. Are you going to tell Dad – not that it will mean much to him these days. I'm not sure that he'd even know who you are."

"I wasn't planning on calling him. No, the last time I tried to talk to him he didn't know me. That stroke might not have killed his body, but it killed my father. I know my father would be proud of me, and that's enough. I think you're going to have to be the one keeping us up-to-date on his status. Austin had been, but I don't think he's going to talk to me for a while. He didn't take the news well. … Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I'm happy for you. I'm proud of you; and I completely understand why you had to lie to us all these years. Who else have you told?"

"Alan. And now you. Alan seemed okay, but I never was able to tell with him."

"That sounds like Alan. I'm sure he's proud of you, too."

"I wouldn't know about that. He didn't say much. I'd like to talk more, but I've still got to call Tony."

"Congratulations, Auggie. Good luck with Tony and Jessica." Auggie's oldest brother ended the call.

Auggie pushed the end call button on his phone, too; and immediately began dialing Tony's number. Tony's phone was answered on the third ring. "Hey, Auggie. What has you calling me at this time of night?"

"I've got some news that I need to tell you before you hear it from another source. Is Jessica around? I'd like to tell both of you at the same time."

"She's been down with a cold. She's upstairs asleep. I'd really rather not disturb her. I will if you insist, but I don't want to."

"No, I guess it's okay if you tell her later. Sorry to hear that she's not feeling well."

"Thanks. Now what is this earth shattering news you have?"

Auggie took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He was prepared for Anthony to go ballistic on him. "I've been lying to you and Jessica for a long time about what I do for a living. Since just after college I've been a covert officer for the CIA." He waited for a response from his older brother.

"Yeah, right. What's a blind man been doing for the CIA all these years? Get to the punch line, Auggie. You're as much a spy as I am a doctor."

"No, Tony. I've really been in the CIA since college. They recruited me. Even when I was in the military I was training to become a covert officer for them. When I was in Iraq with Special Forces, I was CIA. After I was blinded I was still a covert officer in the CIA. I just worked out of an office in Langley rather than in the field. I gathered electronic intelligence, wrote programs to search out secrets hidden in the strangest of places. I handled case officers in the field. I cracked codes. What's so hard to believe about that?"

"You can't be serious, Auggie. You a spy? Prove it."

"At the moment I can't. But by the end of the week you should have your proof. I'm being promoted to the position of Deputy Director of Intelligence. I'm sure that the media is going to have a field day with that bit of news. Call me when you believe it." Auggie ended the call. Annie took the handset from his hand and placed it back on the charging cradle.

"Well, you read your brothers in. It's up to them to believe you or not. But they know now. Even if they find it hard to fathom." Annie kissed her husband on the cheek.

"I need a drink. Do we have any Patron in the house?"

"Yes, we do. And here's a rocks glass with two shots and two ice cubes."

Auggie raised his hand from where it lay on his thigh. Annie brushed the cool glass against his fingers and he closed his hand around the glass. "Thanks. I knew I kept you around for some reason. You still bring me booze when I need it." He took a strong sip and let the warming liquid flow down his throat. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Slowly he let the breath out through his nose. Annie settled onto the leather ottoman behind him on his left. Ice clinked against the side of her glass as she took a sip of her own beverage. "You too?"

"Yeah, I couldn't let you drink alone. I poured myself a couple of shots too. I need a bit of liquid courage before I call my Mom and Dad. Dad is so going to gloat that he's been right all these years."

# # # # #

Auggie didn't know what time it was that he woke, but he couldn't help but smile at the softly snoring form cuddled against his side with her head on his arm. He bent his elbow and stroked his wife's hair. He never tired of waking like this. Even when he didn't exactly believe in himself, she always did. She was unflagging in her loyalty to him. And to her children. His children; their children. He'd been sure that they'd toss his lying to them about what he did for a living back in his face. They hadn't. They'd taken it in stride and still respected him. Now … today … in how many hours? He'd be the subject of a press conference announcing him as the new Deputy Director of Intelligence for the CIA. He thought back to the other press conference – the one he'd turned and walked away from. There would be no walking away from this one. He was ready this time. He wanted it this time. Annie was safe at his side; his children were safe in their beds just down the hallway. In the living room the grandfather clock struck six times. Beside him his wife began to stir. "Morning," he whispered toward her.

"Morning," Annie mumbled sleepily. "Guess I need to get up and get moving."

"Let's not," Auggie whispered shifting slightly. "Let's just … lay here for a bit. We haven't cuddled and simply enjoyed each other for way too long."

"We haven't? What was that last night?"

"That was sharing our love; and celebrating. Yeah, we enjoyed each other, but …"

Annie placed a hand on her husband's mouth; silencing him. She shifted in closer to her husband and moved her hand from his face to his chest. "Mmmm, I like this. It has been a while."

Across the hall they could hear the familiar sounds of a shower. "One of the kids is up. I hope it's Christopher. He smelled a bit gamey last night," Auggie whispered.

"I doubt that it's Chris. I think that one of us," Annie poked Auggie in the chest, "is going to have to get him out of bed and make him take a shower. He seems to be in that teenaged boy mode where soap and water are the enemy."

"Yeah, I remember those days. Wait until he decides that girls don't have cooties. We'll never get him out of the shower then." Auggie extracted his arm from under Annie's head. "So much for a good cuddle." He leaned over and gently kissed his wife. "No video games until he showers?"

"Yeah, that threat seems to get his attention. Should I select a shirt and tie for you?"

"If you want. Something conservative. I was planning on my grey suit. … I'm so not looking forward to this press conference. I'm a bit nervous about where some of the questions might go."

"You'll be … do fine," Annie stated firmly as she scooted out of the bed.

# # # # #

"What does it look like out there?" Auggie asked his new assistant, James Ridgeway. He held his public white cane close to his body, the grip end resting on his tie.

"The press room is standing room only. There are news cameras from all of the major networks and news channels. I've never seen this many reporters in here before. I guess everyone wants to know if the rumor is true."

"Which rumor is that, Jim?" Auggie asked pointedly, even though he was pretty sure which rumor his aide was referring.

"The one that the new DDI is blind," James said as he lay a reassuring hand on his boss' forearm.

Auggie closed his eyes and exhaled softly. "I was afraid that's the one you meant. If I ever needed to come across as commanding and confident, it's now. … Is there anything on the floor between here and the podium? Cables? A slight irregularity in the floor's surface? Anything I could trip over?

"Nope. I wish we'd been able to get you down here earlier so that you could familiarize yourself with the layout."

"That might have been a good idea, but it didn't happen. How far is the podium from where I'm standing now?"

"About twelve feet. The back of the podium is about even with where your left arm is now. If you walk a straight line you'll have no problem reaching it without appearing …"

"Inept?"

"I was going to say blind, but that, too."

"I'm going to use my cane to get me out there. I'm not going to make any attempt to conceal the fact that I'm blind. I got to where I am because I'm good at what I do. Being blind had nothing to do with it. … Or, at least I hope not."

"I think not, Boss," James said reassuringly. "There would have been talk – grumblings if you like – if that had been a major factor. I honestly heard nothing of that nature. Only satisfaction that you were finally being recognized for your many abilities."

Auggie smiled in relief. From the center of the stage he heard, "… And now ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to introduce the next Deputy Director of Intelligence – August D. Anderson."

The room erupted in polite applause. Auggie set his cane in motion and walked proudly and confidently toward the podium. When the shaft of his cane contacted the edge of the podium he ceased its motion and stepped up to it. By that time the room had fallen silent. Bringing the cane upright against his chest, Auggie began to speak, "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. As the Director of National Intelligence mentioned, I'm August Anderson, the new DDI. And, obviously, the rumor is true. I'm blind – and have been since I was injured in the line of duty in 2007. Yes, I have been employed as a covert officer in the CIA ever since. Being blind didn't keep me from doing my job as a covert officer, and it certainly will not keep me from being an effective DDI. Now that that's out of the way, I have a few remarks to make and then I will take a few questions about almost anything besides my blindness …"

* * *

><p>Well?<p> 


	25. Believe Me

Another glimpse into the life of Annie and Auggie. Inspired by a couple of lines uttered by Christopher Gorham in the movie 'My Girlfriend's Boyfriend'. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.

I don't consider this one of my better works, but it's far from my worst.

I still don't own Annie or Auggie, nor Covert Affairs. I do now own two more autographed photos of Christopher Gorham from scenes in Covert Affairs. sigh

* * *

><p>Auggie opened the door to the condominium building where he now lived with Annie. It still felt strange coming home to this place. Body memory hadn't been formed yet and he still had to really concentrate on the sensations being telegraphed to him by the tip of his cane, and the sounds around him. It was late and the only sounds in the foyer were the hum of the florescent lights in the ceiling and the echoes his cane made on the terrazzo floor. Angling slightly left of center he listened for the sound shadow that would be the elevator door. The tip of his cane found the metal door of the elevator and he stepped up to it. Reaching to the right his fingers landed directly on the call button panel. Almost as soon as he'd pushed the button, the door to the elevator opened. Wearily he entered and pushed the button for the fifth floor.<p>

Five minutes later he was leaning against the closed door to his and Annie's apartment, pulling at his tie. It had been a long day – a physically and emotionally draining day. Somehow a simple mission had gone Tango Uniform and they'd almost lost an agent and her asset. It had been harrowing for a few hours, but everyone was okay. No covers had been blown, no asset lost – so it had been a good result in the end. And, Annie was nowhere close to the danger. She was, he hoped, sound asleep in their bed.

As unfamiliar as he was with the route from building's front door to his condo unit, Auggie was familiar with the route from his own front door to the kitchen. He wanted a shot or two of Patron before he stumbled off to bed. With tie undone and draped over his shoulders he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt, then, with both arms extended before him in protective configuration of right at chest height and left slightly below his waist, Auggie walked as quietly as he could toward the kitchen. Once in the kitchen he had no trouble at all in locating the lower cabinet where the liquor was kept.

After grabbing a rocks glass from the upper cupboard and setting it on the countertop, Auggie squatted down and examined the bottles in the liquor cabinet. A few moments later he stood with the familiarly shaped bottle with the two wide rubber bands around the body of it in his hand. He sloshed the contents of the bottle of Patron Silver to judge how much was left in it. He unscrewed the cap and poured the contents into the tumbler, judging the level of the potent liquid by hooking his index finger over the rim of the glass. Auggie sighed deeply with disappointment when the amount left in the bottle didn't reached his finger as he poured. After setting the now empty bottle back on the counter, he picked up the glass and walked a very familiar path between kitchen and his usual seat in the living room.

He sank heavily onto the sofa, and, without bothering to take his shoes off – an act that would normally get a scolding from his wife – stretched his legs out and rested his feet on the coffee table. After taking a sip of his Patron, Auggie tilted his head back onto the back cushion of the sofa. The faint sounds of his home filled his ears – the soft hum of the refrigerator; the ticking of the grandfather's clock on the wall behind him and to his right; the faint drip of the bathroom faucet. Lifting the glass and his head at the same time he took another sip of tequila and relished the gentle burn as it slid down his throat. As soon as that sip was gone he quickly took another, then tilted his head back again and rolled his shoulders to work the tension from them. Auggie hadn't relaxed for long when the seat cushion beside him depressed and a warm form cuddled into his side.

"Rough day?" Annie quietly asked as she lifted his arm and draped it over her shoulders so she could snuggle closer.

"Yeah," Auggie replied softly. "We almost lost Jeffers this evening."

"Lost? … As in killed?"

"Possibly. It was too close for comfort, but she's on her way back with her burned asset. Got a bit too hairy there for a while." Auggie took another sip of tequila.

"Everyone's okay now though?" Annie asked with a touch of concern.

"Yeah. I stayed in her ear until they got on the plane home. It was almost like when you were in Argentina, but the local police were not involved and we didn't have to call in the cavalry."

"Really? I was almost positive we weren't going to get out of there in one piece. Have I told you thanks for all you did for me that day?"

"Only about a dozen times," Auggie replied and took one last sip of his Patron. "But you can tell me again."

Annie took the glass from her husband's hand and stretched across him and placed it on the end table. Then she tossed a leg over Auggie's thighs so she was nearly straddling him and planted a kiss on his lips. "Thanks," she whispered with her lips just millimeters above his, "for taking a job that you didn't really want to save my ass. That you would do that for me …"

"I had to save the best friend I had didn't I?" he replied wrapping his arms tightly around her. "Silk?" he asked fingering the fabric of Annie's nightshirt.

"Yes. To both questions." She nuzzled his ear then pulled back. "Auggie, has there ever been anything you've been totally sure of? I mean totally one hundred percent sure of without any doubt."

"A few things. I was sure that if I ever ran across Nassir I'd kill him. That I didn't when I had him in my hands is a tribute to your persuasive powers. I was sure that the moment I met you that I wanted to get to know you. You had me hooked when you asked about the headphones rather than my blindness. Then when you mentioned that you liked jazz and Charles Mingus, too, I knew I wanted to get to know you better. The better friends we became I slowly came to the conclusion that I'd never met anyone like you. Ever. Everything with you was better than anything without you. Being with you made me better. The minute I met you, something in me changed. You changed me. I tried to deny it and the feelings that I had for you. Then … then I didn't want to deny them anymore; but there was also this tiny part of me that wanted to hold back. I wasn't sure that you'd want to be with me that way. Really be with me. But eventually I was sure about you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I have never been as happy as I am when I'm with you. I've never been as whole or as complete as I am when I'm with you. I was never whole or complete until I met you. From the beginning, I felt whole when I was with you. My blindness never seemed to faze you; you saw past the broken eyes and cane."

"It was easy to see past the cane and broken eyes, I knew you were comfortable in who you were right from the start. Being blind didn't matter to you so why should it matter to me? Even on those rare occasions when you doubted yourself, everyone else around you knew that it would be okay; that what you were doing was the right thing to do."

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Believing in me."

"Believe me, I believe in you. Now I believe that you need to come to bed with me. And, well … not sleep."

* * *

><p>Yeah, kinda fluffy.<p> 


	26. A Meeting of the Minds?

_A comment on the last story sparked the muse into writing this. Kind of clunky, but it is what it is. I'm not happy with it, but neither am I unhappy with it._

_Even Mandy58 couldn't make it better. But I thank her for trying. '-)_

_I still don't own the show or the basic characters. Just this future vision of them._

* * *

><p>"Dad," Christopher Anderson said softly, "a little more to your right. That's it," he acknowledged as his father's hands located his carry-on bag in the overhead compartment of the plane. "I've got mine. We need to move out of the way so Mom can get hers and Corry's."<p>

August Anderson followed his son down the center aisle of the plane and out the doorway onto the boarding ramp. Once they were on the ramp and able to walk side-by-side, Auggie lightly grasped his son's right arm with his left hand and carried his well-worn leather carry-on in his right hand. Once inside the terminal proper Christopher guided his father to an out-of-the-way spot to wait for his mother and sister to catch up with them.

Once Annie and Corrine caught up to Christopher and Auggie the quartet of travelers continued toward the exit of Chicago's O'Hare terminal. They were met as they exited the secured area by Auggie's brother Austin.

"Augs," Austin said as he approached his brother and his family.

"Austin?" Auggie said at the sound of his brother's voice. "You draw the short straw again? I thought you weren't talking to me."

"Adam convinced me that you had no choice but to keep that bit of information from us. I'm still a bit ticked that you didn't feel you could confide that to me, but I'm getting over that. You don't know how immensely proud of you I am. You've done incredibly well for yourself and your family."

Christopher stepped aside so that his uncle could embrace his father. Auggie only partially returned the embrace. "I hear a qualification in that endorsement. You mean I've done well for a blind guy."'

Austin stepped back a step. "There was no qualification meant. You should know that. You have done well for yourself. Period. Maybe we are a bit more in awe since you've achieved it while being blind, but blind or not, rising to the position you've got is a big deal. I couldn't be more proud to have you for a brother, Augs," Austin stated firmly.

A slight smile worked its way across Auggie's features. "Thanks, bro. Had to be sure where you were coming from. I wasn't sure how much I'd damaged our relationship."

"We're still good. We've weathered worse when we were kids." Austin brushed his hand against his brother's. Auggie accepted his brother's sighted guide offer.

"What's the timetable for this weekend?" Annie asked as she fell into step with her husband and brother-in-law. "Will we have time to simply relax any? Or is there something happening every minute between now and the baptism on Sunday morning?"

"We're all getting together tonight at the country club for dinner; then there's the party after the baptism. Jessica hasn't said for sure, but I think that's going to be back at the club. Sometimes I think they should rename it after us." Austin chuckled a bit at his own joke.

"Will Uncle Alan be here?" Christopher asked. "It's been a while since we've seen him."

"Ya know, Chris, I don't really know. Last I heard he was hoping to be, but he wasn't sure he could arrange the leave."

"Oh," Christopher said with barely concealed disappointment.

"We don't get to see him or you guys often enough," Austin admitted. "I guess you guys moving back here is out of the question now. Still trying to talk Alan into retiring from the Marines and taking a civilian job here in this area. He's not listening to reason though. … Here we are, Augs. I'll take your bag and stick it in the back."

Auggie handed his bag to his brother and homed in on the sound of the car door unlocking.

# # # # #

"Here ya go, Augs. Your bag is on the bed center of this end. Annie yours is on the chair in the corner. We haven't changed the position of anything since the last time you were here, Augs. You gonna be okay, now?" Austin explained as he placed his brother's hand on the door knob to the guestroom door.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Corrine's bunking in the girls' old room and Christopher's on the sofa in the den?" Auggie responded.

"Yup. I'll give you about an hour to get rested and freshened up before we have to head out to dinner. Cocktail casual Tony said."

"Ah, that's nice to know. I can be comfortable. I have to wear a suit and tie every day at work; really don't like to have to wear one on the weekends."

"I understand that," Austin said lightly. "You keep him presentable, Annie. Dress slacks and no jeans, please."

"Gotcha," Annie replied. "I'll try, but no promises. The man loves his jeans on the weekend."

"Oh, har," Auggie said as he pushed the door open and entered his brother's guestroom.

An hour later, dressed in dress pants and an oxford shirt with the top two buttons undone, Auggie joined his brother in the living room of the house. "Presentable?" he questioned his brother. He knew that he was, but he couldn't resist stating the obvious.

"I guess you'll do," Austin said a few moments later. "But that shirt really doesn't go that well with those pants. What'd ya do, get dressed in the dark?"

A soft grin worked its way across Auggie's features. "Yeah, something like that. I'll have to take that matter up with my wife if she ever gets down here. This was what was lying on the bed for me after my shower. She and our daughter are the fashionistas in the family. Black, white, sky blue pink with purple polka dots are all the same to me. Has been for some time, too," Auggie admitted cheerily as he waved his hand in front of his face.

Austin roared with good-natured laughter. "Jenna is taking her sweet time, too. But she will be looking mighty fine when she does arrive downstairs. … And here our women come now."

Auggie turned toward the stairway and gave the women a wolf-whistle. "Looking fine ladies. Looking fine."

"And just how do you know that, Augs?" Jenna asked as she entered the room.

"I just know," Auggie replied confidently and smirked as he lifted an eyebrow.

"Auggie, you are incorrigible," Annie said as she approached her husband. "Now what have you done with the children?"

"I don't know," Auggie admitted. "I just got here and my brother was trying to tell me that you dressed my oddly tonight."

"I had nothing to do with that – you dressed yourself as you always do. But you look very nice. He's just jealous that you look so much better than he does."

"Your children are out on the porch patiently, I think, waiting for their elders to get their acts together. All six of us can't fit in one car, so I thought that we'd take two; Jenna can drive hers with Annie and Corrine; and I'll drive mine with the guys. Sound okay to you, Annie?"

"Wait, I don't have a say in this arrangement?" Auggie asked quickly with a bit of feigned indignation.

"Nope," Austin replied. There was a smile in his tone.

"Oh, well, I guess I shouldn't complain too much. You might just tell me to drive myself over to Lakeshore. … That might be a bit of a problem since I haven't had a valid driver's license for a while," Auggie replied with good humor as he stuck his left hand out in search of an elbow.

"Come on, goofball," Austin said as he brushed his right arm against his brother's outstretched hand.

Half-an-hour later the youngest Anderson boys, their wives and children were seated around one of the reserved tables in the still posh Lakeshore Country Club dining room. Auggie was flanked by his own wife on his right, and his brother's wife on his left. How that arrangement had come about he wasn't quite sure, but he wished that his brother was beside him. There were a few things that he wanted to talk over with Austin.

To his left there was a slight commotion then Austin said, "I've swapped places with Jenna. Summer wanted to be able to talk to her mother … and I wanted to be able to talk to you."

"And I'd like to be able to talk to you, too. Austin, I'm sorry that …"

"No, Augs," Austin interjected and placed a hand on his brother's arm. "You did what you had to do. I understand that now. I didn't understand then how you could keep something like that from me … from me … not from the rest of our brothers … from me. I thought that we were close enough and trusted each other enough that you'd at least let me in on something like that."

"I know, Austin. I could have let you know about that some other way …"

"I would have probably reacted the same way. It was a lot to take in … anyway you dished it out. That you'd lived a life of deceit for all those years was just a part of it all. You shattered my image of you – in a good way. Instead of feeling like I needed to be there to protect you from all of the things you couldn't see – to learning that you probably knew six ways to silently kill me – God, Augs all these years …"

"Seven, but who's counting? … Yeah, your little brother grew up to rise to the top of an organization tasked with keeping the country safe from those individuals and groups who'd like to take us down. I didn't realize when I sprung that on you how big that news would be."

"Yeah, Augs. It was pretty earth-shattering. You have no idea how proud we are of having you for a brother."

"I just wish all of my brothers felt that way," Auggie said with a touch of sadness.

"Who do you think isn't proud of you?" Austin asked with clear concern.

"Tony. He always tried to pretend I didn't exist. Then when I was blinded …" Auggie sighed and shook his head. "At this stage of life winning his approval shouldn't still matter. But it does. Nothing I've done is ever worthy of his praise. He didn't even believe me when I told him what I'd been doing all these years."

"I think that Adam and I might have played a part in that."

"How do you figure that?" Auggie asked his brother with genuine surprise.

"Well, you know that even when you were in the military he had the feeling that you were not just regular military. Then after you lost your sight and ostensibly went to work for the Pentagon, he never believed that. He was convinced you were a spy. Adam and I finally convinced him that it couldn't be … because of … well … your sight."

"Yeah, I remember now. I'd forgotten all about his thinking that. You must have done a pretty good job of convincing him that a blind man could never be a spy. All he wanted was for me to prove to him that I'd been that. He hasn't spoken to me since. I was surprised when Lucas and Jenny sent us an invitation to their baby's baptism. I guess Lucas doesn't hold the same low opinion of his uncle that his father does of his brother."

"Anthony may act like a self-centered jerk sometimes, but you're still his brother. He loves you, Augs. And he's proud of you, too. I don't think he knows how to tell you that."

"I'll believe that when I see it. And you know how much I see."

"You might not see with your eyes, Augs, but you've always seen more than the rest of us. … How about we go to the bar and have a couple before the party gets going?"

"Yeah, I think I could do with a couple shots of tequila." Auggie said as he picked up his cane from where it lay on the table.

Fifteen minutes later, as Auggie sipped on his Patron Silver and Austin his Johnny Walker Gold with their backs to the main dining room, the bar's manager stepped from his office behind the counter and said, "Mr. Anderson … er … Tony … I got that extra champagne you wanted. Is it for this evening or to be served with the wines your daughter-in-law ordered for tomorrow?"

"Paul, that's for this evening. We're celebrating my brother's promotion this evening," Anthony Anderson replied. Pleasure obvious in his tone.

"Ah, which brother is this? Adam? Or Austin?"

"Neither of them. One of my brothers that doesn't get back here nearly often enough. My youngest brother, August. He told us he'd been given a huge promotion at work a few months ago, but this is the first time he's supposed to be back home since then."

"August?" Paul asked with puzzlement. "Is he the Marine?"

Auggie's hand paused in mid reach for his glass of liquor.

"No, that's Alan. He's supposed to be here this evening, too."

"Oh, August must be your blind brother?"

Auggie grasped his glass of Patron and finished draining it.

"Yes, August is blind." Anthony said in a tone that conveyed displeasure.

Cocking his head slightly to one side, Auggie gently returned the glass to the countertop.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson, I didn't mean …"

"It's okay, Paul. I guess that people who don't know my brother would notice that about him first. But my brother is so much more than that." Anthony sighed. "He's made living blind look easy, but I'm sure that there's times when his life has been anything but easy because he can't see. But I don't think he's ever allowed that to keep him from doing what he wanted to do. I know it hasn't held him back professionally." Pride in his brother was once again evident in Anthony's tone. "He's spent his professional life working covertly for the CIA and is now the Deputy Director of the agency. I am so incredibly proud of him."

"Sounds as if you do have something special to celebrate this evening," Paul said.

"Yes, we do. I haven't always been able to let him know how lucky I am to have him for a brother; or how unbelievably proud of his accomplishments I've been; but that ends tonight," Anthony said with conviction.

Auggie slipped quietly off the barstool. "Tony?" he said as he turned to face his brother.

"Auggie …"


	27. Brotherly Love?

This one had a very long and tedious birthing process. And there were many fingers in this pie, too. They know who they are and just how much I appreciate their suggestions. That said, this story is out of character for me and flies in the face of how I learned to write these things. It's also different in that so much of the focus is on someone other than Auggie.

I also have a strong feeling that I need to apologize to someone for stealing a character's name. If I have, I hope you will forgive me. The name came into my head and would not leave.

The usual disclaimer - I do not own the rights to anything except my thoughts - such as they are.

* * *

><p>Anthony Wayne Anderson pulled to a stop at the visitor's gate to the GHW Bush Center for central Intelligence in Langley, Virginia. A moment's concern passed over him before he spoke to the guard. "I'm here to see the Deputy Director of Intelligence August Anderson."<p>

"May I see your ID?" the uniformed guard asked.

Anthony pulled his wallet from his pocket and extracted his Illinois driver's license from it. Nervously he handed it to the guard.

The man examined the piece of plastic for a few moments, and then scanned a printed list. "Do you have an appointment with Mr. Anderson? I don't see your name on his schedule."

"No. But I'm sure he'll see me if he knows I'm here."

The guard looked at Anthony and then picked up the receiver from the phone on the wall of the guard shack. He punched in a few numbers. "Mr. Ridgeway, there's an Anthony Anderson here to see Director Anderson. Would you ask him if he'll see him? He insists that Director Anderson would see him if he knew he was here. ... Okay. I'll wait."

# # # # #

"Yes, Jim," August Anderson responded to a light knock on his office door without pausing as he read the document on his desk.

One side of the double door opened and James Ridgeway, personal assistant to the Deputy Director of Intelligence at the CIA, stuck his head into his boss' office. "The main gate just called. There's an Anthony Anderson from Northbrook, Illinois out there who wants to see you. He's not on the days agenda."

"Really?" August said cocking his head slightly to his right. "What is on my schedule today?"

"You're clear for about half-an-hour, and then you'll need to leave for that lunch meeting with Senator Holbrook at the Capitol Club."

"Anthony Anderson is my brother. Have security send him in," August gently commanded. He was very curious to know why his older brother had come half-way across the country to visit him. And visit him at his office. Not his home, but his office. After the momentary distraction, Auggie's fingers resumed their movement across the braille page in front of him.

**# # # # #**

After what seemed like forever, the guard handed Anthony's license back along with a red badge with a large white 'V' on it. When the gate went up and the barrier was lowered, Anthony followed the guard's directions to the main entrance. A long ten minutes later he was standing outside an office on the seventh floor reading the brass nameplate on the cherry wood door with an odd combination of pride and disbelief. 'Deputy Director of Intelligence - August D. Anderson' the nameplate read.

Anthony squared his shoulders and opened the door into his brother's office.

"Good morning," the imposing African-American man sitting behind the desk in the reception area said. The soft, gentle voice coming from the bear of a man before him surprised Anthony. "I'm James Ridgeway, Mr. Anderson's personal assistant. You must be his brother."

"Yeah, guilty as charged," Anthony said uneasily.

"Director Anderson is expecting you," James said as he rose from behind his desk and crossed the short distance to the massive double doors into the inner office. He opened the right hand door and announced, "Mr. Anderson for you sir," before stepping aside to allow Anthony to pass by.

Anthony paused just inside the door and took in his brother's office. Austere was the only word that came to mind. The walls were practically devoid of adornment. To his left the dark drapes on the windows were open and sunlight pour in through the windows, but that seemed to be the only source of illumination in the room. His brother's desk was empty of the usual desktop accessories – no calendar, no pencil cups, a single wire basket with a couple of blue folders in it, and a small piece of electronics he'd never seen before. On the window side of the desk was another glass topped desk with a computer, monitor, keyboard, and a pair of headphones on it. Behind the desk was a credenza that held two highly tactile sculptures and his brother's white cane. For a moment he thought that Auggie had not had time to make the office his own, the realized that he probably had. His brother did not need things on the wall and bright light to be comfortable in the space. Even after all this time, it still pained Anthony to realize that his baby brother could no longer appreciate those things.

Auggie closed a file in the center of his desk, rose and moved to the end of his desk. "Anthony?" he said as the door shut and held out his right hand in greeting.

As he crossed the short distance between the door and his brother, Anthony took in the sight of his brother. This was definitely a side to his brother that he'd never seen before. From one glance he could tell that Auggie was where he should be – in charge. There was a quiet confidence to Auggie that Anthony had not seen in over two decades and honestly wondered if he'd ever see again. This was his brother's turf and he clearly knew that.

"What's with the formal greeting?" Anthony asked as he firmly grasped his brother's hand and then pulled him into an embrace. His brother stiffened slightly in his arms.

"Habit," Auggie replied. "What brings you to DC?"

"A little bit of work, and, hopefully, some pleasure. While I was in the area I thought I'd stop by and see my brother. I hope that's allowed," Anthony stated as Auggie pulled away from the hug. He was in the area for a conference. A conference at which his firm did not need to put in an appearance, or, at least, not by a senior partner. A week ago Anthony had informed the junior partner that was booked to come, that he was going in the woman's place. He had personally changed the flights and the hotel room so that he could come early and have a visit with his brother without the rest of the family around.

He stepped back a pace and observed as his brother moved toward the club chairs in front of his desk. Auggie's right hand lightly trailed the front edge of his desk; his left was slightly extended away from his side and in front of him. When his hand brushed against the arm of the chair Auggie turned slightly and sat in the chair.

"It is. Let's sit and talk?" Auggie said as he settled onto the chair's seat and motioned to the other chair.

"That's what I came here to do. Talk to you. It's been almost four months since Meghan's baptism and we've barely spoken. It's like nothing's changed," Anthony said as he moved the second chair enough so that he would face his brother when he sat down.

"I've been busy. Getting the hang of this job hasn't been easy," Auggie said as if it was all the explanation necessary.

Anthony shook his head slightly. It was the excuse he'd expected.

"You've found time to call Austin and Adam," Anthony stated. He wasn't going to let his brother off that easily.

"I've always talked to them; they've always taken an interest in what and how I'm doing. Look, you didn't come all this way to bust my chops over something as trivial as a few missed phone calls when we've barely spoken outside of family gatherings … in what? … twenty years."

There it was – the crux of the matter. His brother still didn't think he cared about him. "No, of course not. I came to DC for a conference and came a bit early so I could spend some time with my brother. That's okay isn't it?"

Auggie's uncomfortable, "Yeah, I guess," did not surprise him at all.

"You caught me on a slow day," Auggie continued. He wasn't yet completely comfortable with his brother's motives for being here. To tell the truth it was anything but a slow day. What it was, however, was an average day. He'd reviewed threat assessments from every corner of the world, been given sit reps coming in from field officers, and been notified that a team – a highly professional team – had failed two check-ins. That more than anything else had disturbed him. He'd worked closely with them before he'd taken this new position. And, he'd long known their handler – Stuart Littlejohn. Stu had been his right hand guy for a long time and was almost as good in Tech Ops as he'd been. One more missed check-in and he'd authorize an extraction team to go in and find them. All in a morning's work.

"You have quite a nice office space here. Some impressive bits of technology there on the desk. And a view?" Anthony asked trying another tactic to get his brother to open up to him.

"Yeah, there is a view from the windows I'm told. The irony of a view I cannot appreciate is not lost on me." Auggie smiled wryly.

Anthony rose and crossed to one of the windows. Peering out at the large walled courtyard with several benches forming a loose square around a central water feature, the well-maintained strip of grass, the well-worn running path, and the thick stand of trees, Anthony asked, "Has anyone described the view to you?"

"Yes, Annie's been here and described it to me. I know it overlooks a courtyard and in the near distance there are the trees that buffer us from the adjoining property. Quite a calming view I'm told."

"It is," Anthony said as he returned to stand near his brother. Once again he steeled his nerves and plunged into what he'd come to say, "Auggie, I know that we'll never be as close as you and Austin, or even Alan, but I'm tired of us being … well … estranged. What do I have to do to change that? I can't take back the things that have happened between us. All I can do is express my regret that most of them happened. I'm sorry, but you had a couple of them coming."

"Yeah, I couple of them I'll admit I had coming, but I'm not sure that I'd have been compelled to sabotage your date with Sue Wilson if you hadn't destroyed my GI Joe."

Anthony chuckled softly. "Yeah … well …That's probably true. But still … Auggie …"

A knock on the door interrupted Anthony from finishing his thought. He grimaced and closed his eyes in frustration.

"Yes, Jim?" Auggie asked as the door opened slightly. Antony noticed the slight tension that had been building in his brother's face eased as he slipped back into the role he was obviously much more comfortable in.

"Your driver's ready to take you to Capitol Hill. You really need to leave soon. It's not a good idea to keep the Chairman of the Intelligence Committee waiting."

"I'll be right along, Jim. Thanks. I'm sorry Tony, the job calls."

That his brother didn't exactly seem sorry was not lost on Anthony. He tried one more time to engage Auggie, "Ah. And here I was hoping that we could have a quiet lunch together. To catch up. To begin to patch thing up."

Auggie remained seated for a few moments apparently lost in thought. Finally he spoke, "It might not be that quiet and personal, but how would you like to come to lunch with me? This meeting is as much social as it is work related. I'm sure the Senator wouldn't mind."

"Really, Auggie?" Anthony asked with surprise. His baby brother was going to lunch with a Senator and was asking him if he'd like to tag along. For years it had be Auggie who'd been tagging along – invited or not – with his older brothers. Now, it seemed, the tables were turned. Anthony wasn't quite sure how he felt about this reversal of roles.

"I would not have invited if I didn't mean it, Tony. Let me grab my cane and jacket and we'll be off."

Anthony observed his brother's movements as he made his way around his desk and grabbed his suit coat off the back of his chair, his cane from the credenza behind him, and then the file from the center of his desk – his left hand lightly trailed the edge of his desk as he as he circled the rounded end of the desk, his subtle, practiced search for the back of the desk chair so that he could grab his suit coat from it and put it on. As second nature as his brother's movements appeared, they still caused him grief. There, that was it, Anthony thought. It had been over ten years and he was still grieving for the brother that he'd lost in that explosion in Iraq. And he'd never really been allowed to get to know the man who had replaced him. God knew he had tried to know and understand the man that had come back from Iraq, but that man didn't seem to want to let him know him. Even the latest attempt at his granddaughter's baptism a few months back had not met with the hoped for success.

Anthony followed his brother out of the inner office, pausing to close the door behind him as Auggie passed James' desk on the way out of the suite of offices, and dropped the file onto his assistant's desk. "I approve of the changes in wording, Jim. I need the print version on my desk for my signature first thing in the morning. Is that doable?"

"Yes, Sir. I might be able to have the final document ready by the time you get back from Capitol Hill."

"Not necessary. In the morning is fine. I'd rather you finish this morning's discussion first."

"Got it, Boss."

The brief exchange between his brother and his assistant left Anthony with no doubt that Auggie was clearly in charge here. And it was clear that James Ridgeway had nothing but the utmost respect for his boss. Anthony could only wish for the same from his own staff.

As he left his office suite, Auggie paused just long enough to unfurl his white cane before he strode briskly, and confidently, through the corridors of the CIA building. The sight of the white cane rhythmically sweeping from side-to-side in front of his brother caused Anthony's stomach to go queasy for a brief moment; and he wondered if he would ever get used to seeing that.

That Auggie had a car and driver at his disposal did not surprise Anthony; nor did the fact that it was a black town car with dark tinted rear windows. What did slightly surprise him was the easy familiarity he had with the vehicle and his driver. The driver stepped forward and gently placed Auggie's hand on the opened rear passenger door. The ease with which he entered the vehicle suggested that he'd done that many times. Anthony wondered, as he entered the vehicle after his brother, if this was a daily occurrence and this driver and vehicle combination dropped Auggie off at home in the evening and picked him up in the morning. He quickly decided that he didn't want to know that.

As soon as he was settled into the seat, Auggie removed his badge and tucked it into the side pocket of his jacket. "You might want to put your visitor's badge into a pocket until we get back here, Tony."

"Oh, almost forgot about that," Anthony remarked, pulling the badge from his lapel. "You really are in charge of this place, aren't you?"

"You doubted it?" Auggie asked. He did not turn his head toward Anthony as he spoke.

"Well, learning that you'd been less than honest with us for the last two decades did rather make me wonder if you'd even been honest about that," Anthony admitted with reluctance.

"Is that why you really stopped by today?" Auggie asked pointedly.

Anthony sighed slightly. He guessed he deserved that question. That his brother hadn't asked it before that moment had sort of surprised him.

"There was a seed of doubt when I pulled up to the security gate. That seed was quickly quashed though. The questions I was asked dispelled ANY doubt. Then I began to wonder if I'd be allowed through the gate since I was not on your visitor's list for the day."

"Yeah, I hear they can be quite protective of my schedule. When they called and asked if it was okay for you to be admitted. I almost said no."

"Why didn't you?"

"Curiosity," Auggie said simply. "Others have called, but you're the first one to show up on my doorstep. So to speak."

"I want to know who my brother really is," Anthony said. "I've missed so much of his life. I don't want to miss the rest of it." There he'd said it. If Auggie wondered what his agenda really was – that, purely and simply, was it. He wanted to know what kind of a man his brother had become. He hoped that he liked that man, because, at the moment, he didn't much like himself. "Auggie, of all the things I wish I could take back … I would most like to take back how I acted toward you that first time we were together after you were blinded. I mistakenly thought that you needed to be protected, sheltered, from the realities of your new world. I know now that even then the world probably still needed to be protected from you."

A brief smile of understanding skated across Auggie's face. "I'm sure it was quite a shock to you to finally understand that all this time it was I who was protecting the world."

"Yeah. It was."

As they rode into the city, Anthony and Auggie shared boyhood memories. It didn't take but two shared remembrances for Anthony realized that, for the first time, Auggie was reliving times past when they'd actually behave like brothers rather than mortal enemies. Anthony had to swallow hard a few times to keep his emotions in check. He glanced over at his brother; Auggie had a slight smile gracing his features. A smile that Anthony could only call contented.

Once they'd reached the parking area for the Capitol Building and parked, the driver got out and opened the door on Auggie's side of the car. "Mr. Anderson."

After Auggie and Anthony had exited the vehicle and the doors closed and locked, the driver gently brushed his hand against his boss'. Auggie quickly reached for his driver's elbow. "Capitol Club again?" the driver asked.

"Yes, thank you. Coming Tony?"

As the three men walked briskly toward the security desk at the private entrance to the Capitol Building – the entrance to the building used by the senators, representatives and their staffs – Anthony hung back a few paces and quietly observed the two men walking in front of him. They were about the same age as close as Anthony could tell, but their status within the agency was vastly different, yet they were obviously accustomed to working as a team. As he had seen Annie do on numerous occasions, the driver had provided quiet, subtle cues to Auggie as well as his arm as sighted guide. That his brother was afforded the kindnesses – no that wasn't quite the right term – courtesies was a better one – offered Anthony a bit of comfort. And, watching his brother's demeanor, the fact that he had – no, Anthony didn't believe that Auggie _had_to have a sighted guide in this instance – to be led into the building did not diminish the respect he commanded one iota.

"Good morning, Mr. Anderson," the security guard said as the men approached his desk. "Nice to see you again. Who's your companion? I don't recall seeing him before."

"Since you are familiar with my usual driver, I guess you're asking the other gentleman. That's my brother Anthony. We have a meeting with Senator Holbrook in the Capitol Club."

At the mention of the Senator's name, Anthony smiled. He knew Senator Holbrook; he'd worked on his senate campaign a few years ago. It was comforting that he had something in common with Auggie.

"Okay, good enough for me. Have a nice lunch."

A few minutes later the trio entered the Capitol Club dining room.

"Ah, Mr. Anderson," the maître'd announced. "You're a bit early. The senator has not arrived yet. The table is ready, though. Would you like to be seated?"

"Yes, please."

It was suddenly clear to Anthony that Auggie was well-known in this prestigious place. Auggie had been here a number of times it seemed.

"I'll wait with the car, Mr. Anderson," the driver said as Auggie dropped his hand to his side.

"I don't know how long we'll be, Stan. If you want to take a break and come back, I can page you when I think we're about ready to break up."

"Not necessary, Mr. Anderson. I'll be ready when you are."

"Okay, Stan. See you in a bit then. … Tony?"

"Yes, Auggie?" Anthony replied as he took a step forward to stand beside his brother.

"I need your arm, please."

"Okay, but I've never done that before."

"Just follow the leader and don't let me run into anyone," Auggie said as he switched his cane to his left hand and extended his right toward his brother. As he stepped forward Anthony brushed his arm against his brother's slightly outstretched hand. Auggie lightly latched on to his brother's arm.

"What do I do when we get to the table, Auggie?" Anthony whispered as they moved through the dining room. He hoped that he'd managed to keep the panic he was feeling out of his voice. His brother was depending on him and he had not the slightest clue of what to do. He realized in one horrible moment that he was in completely over his head as far as how to seamlessly assist his brother. He tried to remember what he'd been told those many years ago by the instructors at the Hines VA hospital. Anything that he might have learned then was long ago erased from his memory. A faux pas on his part now could embarrass his brother. He felt that they were making progress in rebuilding a relationship, and he did not want to set that little bit of progress back.

Auggie smiled softly at Anthony. His brother's nervousness was evident to him. "Just place my hand on the back of the chair where you want me to sit. I'll take it from there."

After they were seated, Auggie leaned over toward his brother. "You did that just fine. It's not hard."

His brother's small compliment buoyed Anthony's sagging confidence.

"Thanks, but I was a bit nervous. Now, what do I do when your meal is served? I know that someone leans in and whispers something to you. What are they telling you?"

"They were telling me the location of the food on my plate and where my drink is. I plan on getting a salad and I know where the glass for my drink is customarily set down. So you're off the hook for that." Auggie explained softly. "I believe that's the Senator arriving now."

A few moments later Senator Holbrook placed a hand on Auggie's shoulder. "Good to see you again, Auggie. Who's the gentleman with you?"

"Thanks for inviting me to lunch, Senator. That's no gentleman, that's my older brother Anthony. Anthony Senator Charles Holbrook. Senator Holbrook, my brother Anthony Anderson."

Anthony stood and shook the Senator's hand. "Nice to meet you again, Senator Holbrook."

"Again?" Charles Holbrook asked as he took the seat to Auggie's left.

Dismay at not being recognized by the Senator filled Anthony as he sat back down. "I've been part of your legal team back home for the last two campaigns," Anthony stated. He allowed a bit of pride to enter his tone.

"You have? I thought the name sounded familiar. And now so does the face. I'm sorry Anthony. I meet so many people that it's hard to keep everyone straight."

"I understand Senator. You can call me Tony. Most people do." Not off to a good start here, Anthony couldn't help but think.

"Welcome to DC, Tony. Auggie how is Chris' wrist?"

"Chris is just fine; just a slight sprain. He'll be ready to go on Saturday. Have you heard if Jason will be the starting pitcher? We really need a strong arm if we're going to take the championship again."

"He hasn't said anything, so I don't know. Coach might put him in as clean up in the last couple innings. Of more interest to me at the moment – will Annie be bringing that wonderful potato salad of hers to the potluck?"

Anthony glanced, mouth slight agape, between the two men seated to his left. This certainly wasn't starting out like a meeting between the Deputy Director of Intelligence for the CIA and the Chairman of the Senate's Intelligence Committee; it sounded more like a lunch meeting between two old friends.

Auggie grinned and chuckled slightly. "She did mention that she needed to get potatoes the next time she went to the grocery store, so I'm assuming that she's planning on doing so. I hope Maggie's bringing that cherry cobbler thing again."

"Auggie? What are you two talking about?" Anthony interjected.

"Oh. Chuck's son and Chris have played on the same Little League team since the Holbrooks arrived in the DC area. Saturday is the game for the division championship. There's a potluck after the game. Chris banged into another player last game and hurt his wrist. He's okay now," Auggie explained.

"Yes, your brother was the first person I met outside of the political arena when we got here; and he is quite fascinating. I've met a lot of people, but no one quite like Auggie."

"Fascinating? Never heard that term applied to him before," Anthony replied. Arrogant. Womanizer. Brat. Annoying. Those were terms he would once have labeled his brother with, but not fascinating. Amazing, now perhaps.

"Yeah, to Tony here the first term he thinks of when he sees me is annoying. I'm just his annoying baby brother."

"When we were kids maybe; but not since we became adults. The family is quite proud of our youngest sibling. What he has accomplished with his life just blows us away. Our nerdy younger brother is now head of Intelligence at the CIA. None of us saw that coming," Anthony quickly defended his brother. It felt good to do that.

"As long as I knew your brother, it took me by surprise when the new Deputy Director of Intelligence was announced, too. The quiet, unassuming man that I knew was actually a spy and now a director at the CIA. I think I know how your family felt. Now it's sometimes hard to separate the friend from the tough, hard-as-nails negotiator that I have to deal with here on Capitol Hill."

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><p>Here it is. Mandy called it powerful. What do you think of it? Someone asked for a story from someone else's POV. I think she wanted Christopher's - that might come yet. Did you get what you wanted?<p>

Someone else wanted a follow up Anthony expressing pride in Auggie. Did this satisfy that longing?


	28. The Birds and the Bees

**This was fun to write, but I've really got to rate it a strong T because it's about what the title suggests. This is based on an actual conversation between my daughter and her three-year-old when my daughter was pregnant with her second child. **

**Mandy suggested the topic, but I don't think this was what she had in mind, but it's what came out of mine. She has approved of it though.**

**I don't own the original Annie and Auggie, but I do pretty much own Christopher. (And I am the proud owner of yet another Christopher Gorham autograph. This one on a poster for his movie 'Answer This'. Along with the autographs of the female lead - Arielle Kebbel; Christopher Farah - the writer/director - inscribed it and gave it to me last Thursday in Michigan at the red carpet world premiere of the movie. Chris Gorham wasn't there, but that didn't matter. Three of my favorite things were together in an awesome movie - Christopher Gorham, Ann Arbor, Michigan and the University of Michigan. How could I not go see that movie? I'm still pinching myself over some of the things that happened for me that evening. It was an awesome premiere for an awesome movie. I highly reccommend it. Google it if you haven't heard of it yet.)**

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><p>"Mommy, your belly's getting really big," almost three years old Christopher Anderson said as he tried to snuggle up on his mother's lap. "I don't like it. Make it go 'way."<p>

"Your baby sister is in there. My belly will go away when she's born in a few months. But my belly is going to get bigger first," Annie Anderson explained patiently to her son. Across the room, her husband smiled broadly. She wasn't sure if he was amused by the conversation, or pleased at the fact that he'd sired yet another child. Probably a bit of both she finally concluded.

"A baby? How did a baby get in there?" Christopher asked with childlike curiosity.

August 'Auggie' Anderson rose from his seat. "That one's in your ballpark now," he said as he left the room.

"Well, a few months ago, Daddy planted a seed in Mommy's womb and the seed decided to grow into a baby girl. That's how we got you, too. Daddy planted a seed in Mommy's womb and it decided to grow into a baby boy."

"How did Daddy plant the seed?"

Annie felt the blood rushing to her cheeks and heard muffled laughter from the kitchen. "Auggie! He's your son, too. Get in here and explain it to him."

"Uh-uh," Auggie replied as he moved down the hallway to the back of the house.

Annie exhaled in irritation. He would pay for this lack of support later she vowed.

"Well, Chris, you've seen both Mommy and Daddy without clothes on so you know that men and women are built differently," Annie began.

"Yeah. Your chest is bigger and softer than Daddy's and Daddy has a bigger weinie than me."

"Yes. As little boys and little girls grow up to be men and women, their bodies change and the parts that make them men and women develop so that they can make babies. That happens over a long time. When a man or a women find the right person that they want to spend their life with and have babies with, they usually commit themselves to one another. That's why we wear rings on our left hands. That tells other people that we are committed to each other and we're not looking for someone to be with. When a man and a women love each other they hug and kiss a lot."

"So, hugging and kissing leads to a baby?"

"No, Chris," Auggie said as he sat down beside Annie on the couch with a book in his hand. "Just hugging and kissing doesn't make a woman have a baby. It's just part of the process. And every hug or kiss doesn't lead to the rest of the process. It's just how people let the other one know that they like them. And there's lots of other ways for people to tell someone they like them, too."

"I know Daddy. You can tell them, or bring them presents and other stuff."

"Right," Annie replied.

"Is this the right book?" Auggie asked offering the book in Annie's direction.

"Yes, it's the one we thought most appropriate," Annie replied softly, "but I'm not quite sure we need to go through all of that right now. Let's keep it even simpler."

"Okay. I'm here for you if you need me," Auggie said as he leaned forward and placed the thin book on the coffee table. "Carry on."

"When a man and a woman get to hugging and kissing in private, they often get to feeling like they want to express their affection for each other in a special way. Most people call that way making love. They take their clothes off and touch each other in special ways and in special places. When they're ready, they lay down on the bed and the man puts his penis into a special place on a woman's body called her vagina. Then men send his seeds, also called sperm, into the woman. If the woman's body is ready, the woman's seed, called an egg …"

"Like the eggs we eat?"

"No, Chris. Not like the eggs we eat. A woman's egg is very tiny, not big like a chicken's egg," Auggie answered. "The man's sperm is very tiny also. Both sperm and eggs are so little you can't see them with your eyes."

"Oh?"

"If an egg is present in the woman's womb – that's the special place in the woman's body where the baby grows –" Annie continued. "If there's an egg present, all of the man's sperm rush around trying to find it. One sperm that's fast, strong, and lucky will find the egg and join with it. That's the start of the baby. And that's how Daddy planted the seed in Mommy," Annie said with finality.

"Was it fun to plant seeds in Mommy?" Christopher asked eagerly.

Annie watched Auggie's face turn red. "Yes. It's fun to plant seeds in a woman. But it's not something that a man does if the woman is not willing, nor is it something that you should do with a woman you don't love. Having a baby is a big responsibility. It's not something that should be done just because it's fun," Auggie replied seriously.

"Okay," Christopher said as he snuggled as close as he could to his mother. "Hi, baby," he added as he patted his mother's belly.

A few hours later, in bed with Auggie's arms firmly wrapped around her as she lay on her side, Annie asked, "Do you think we traumatized our son with that explanation of how a man plants a seed in a woman? He seemed okay with it, don't you think?"

"Yes, I think we did a nice job of telling him where babies come from. He's a smart boy. Sometimes too smart I think. I wonder why he wanted to know if it was fun."

"I don't know. Got to have something to do with testosterone I think. … I had a hard time keeping from laughing though when you said that a man shouldn't 'plant seeds' in a woman he didn't love. You did plenty of that before you met me. After even."

"No comment," Auggie whispered pulling Annie closer to him.

Annie smiled and snuggled deeper into her husband's strong arms.

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><p><strong>Yes, Christopher is a precocious little boy. So is my granddaughter Summer. Got a comment - good, bad or indifferent - I'd like to hear it. Unless I remember where I put my stash of chocolate and chardonnay, this may be the last story for a while. The well's dry again. Well, not completely. There is one story rattling around in my head, but nothing is close to being fleshed out or written down. (Oh, the count is now at 6.)<strong>


	29. Like Father, Like Son?

**I wish my muse would warn me before she decides to come visit. I _was_ dry at the end of Birds and Bees. Then an odd comment triggered this little gem. How would Auggie react if his son appeared to be following in his father's womanizing ways? Told mostly from Christopher's POV.**

**Mandy's had her say.**

**I don't own anything (new) of Covert Affairs.**

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><p>Christopher Austin Anderson pulled his car to a stop beside his mother's vehicle in the driveway of their McLean, Virginia home. After turning off the ignition, he pulled the key out and unbuckled his seatbelt. He didn't immediately exit the vehicle, but sat for a few moments steeling his nerves for the lecture he was sure to get when he set foot inside the house. It was after midnight and well over an hour past his curfew on a school night and it didn't matter that there was no school the next day.<p>

He briefly rested his forehead on the steering wheel, then, with shaky resolve, opened the door and exited his car. Halfway to the backdoor he punched the button on the fob and the short honk from his horn told him his car was locked. And would probably remain that way for the next week – the probable length of time he'd be grounded for. Christopher regretted the evening's activities even more now. He thought that he'd had fun with Gabby Grey, but now wasn't sure the 'fun' was worth the ire his father was sure to heap on him. A deep sigh escaped him as he opened the back door and entered the dark house.

As he locked the door behind him, Christopher wondered where his father was. He seriously doubted that he was asleep in his bed. Was he waiting in his office? Or was he just a few feet away in the family room?

Christopher had taken but two steps away from the door when his father's voice came at him from the family room.

"Was the fun you had worth losing your car for a week?" Auggie Anderson asked from where he sat in his recliner in the darkness to Christopher's right.

"Not really," Christopher replied. "Thought that it was at the time, but now realize that it wasn't. On my way by I'll put my keys on your desk in your office."

"Don't bother," Auggie said softly. "I'm not grounding you. This time. You understand what you did. But … come in here and sit down. I do want to discuss something with you." His father's tone of voice was serious and Christopher knew better than to argue with him.

"Why?" Christopher asked as he moved to take a seat on the sofa. He didn't bother to turn on the lights. Like his father, he didn't need light to navigate his home. Besides, he didn't want to see the disappointment on his father's face.

"Why what? Why I'm not taking your car? Or why I want to talk to you?"

"Both, actually."

"Already told you why I'm not grounding you – you understand that you broke curfew and regret it. Why I want to talk to you will become clear in a few minutes. I am extremely disappointed in you right now."

"I know," Christopher said softly. "I'm rather disappointed in myself. I know better. I know it's no excuse, but time just got away from me. When I realized what time it was it was already too late."

"You could have called."

"And risk waking you up if you were asleep and I could sneak in and …"

"You know that I'd hear you no matter how asleep I am. And that I'd check the time. You know you can't sneak past me."

"Yeah. I know. Never have been able to put anything over on you. Did Mom a few times, but I never got away with anything when you were around."

"And this evening is no different," Auggie began. "I had a feeling that you and Gabby were 'gardening' before you even came in just now. Now that you are sitting here with me, I know that you've been 'gardening' with her. You do not know just how disappointed in you that I am right now. I thought that I raised you better than this. Thought that I'd made it clear that you need to control your Anderson libido."

"What makes you think that Gabby and I had sex tonight?"

"A father knows these things. I wasn't sure until you got closer to me. Sex has a particular odor afterwards. I hope that you used protection," Auggie said firmly.

"We did. I'm not stupid in that arena, Dad. I'm not ready to be a father."

"Then you should not be having sex," Auggie blurted out. "I thought that I'd made that clear to you repeatedly. Ever since you were little I've tried to impress that on you. Apparently I have failed in that. With that I'm going to bed," he said as he began to rise from his chair. Christopher couldn't help but notice the hint of disgust in his father's tone.

"Dad, I'm sorry I've let you down. It's hard to not give in to those feelings. Especially when the girl is the aggressive one. And Dad, I'm a bit upset with myself right now."

Christopher's father sat back down on the edge of the chair he'd just risen from. "Why are you upset with yourself? About now you should be beating on your chest and celebrating your conquest."

"I'm not. I'm feeling used. Like I'm just another notch in Gabby's belt. I didn't want to believe that about her, but something she said after gave me no choice but to believe that what was being said about her was true."

"What's been said about this young woman?"

"That she wants to have slept with every guy in our class by graduation. She's a sweet, quiet girl. I didn't want to think that was true. For whatever reason, it seems to be. I'm starting to feel sorry for her. There's something more than hormones going on with her, I think. I'm going to go take a shower and go to bed. May I sleep in in the morning? We don't have school."

"Yeah. You can sleep in. Unfortunately I can't. Good-night, son. I'm still a bit disappointed in you, but, since it doesn't seem it was all you, not as much as I was earlier. I'm not sure that I want you to follow in my footsteps in this area. Be careful."

"I will Dad. And I'll try not to let you down again," Christopher said as he rose to follow his father out of the family room.

In front of him his father paused, turned around and, with an accuracy that always surprised Christopher, touched him on the arm. "Christopher, I have set high standards for you and your sister. Perhaps too high; but, like most parents, that's because I only want the best for you two. You are bound to fall short of my lofty goals at one time or another. That you do not do so more often sometimes surprises me; when you do it's up to me to determine why. Were my expectations really too high? Or did you actually screw up? Tonight seems to be a bit of both, but you seem to have done the best you could."

In the dim, shadowy light of the hallway, Christopher could just make out his father's features. He looked weary; and a moment of guilt washed over Christopher. Even though his father would not realize it, Christopher looked into his father's sightless eyes, "Try to get some sleep, Dad. I'm sorry I've kept you up."

"Get yourself to bed as soon as you get your shower. Try not to wake your mother and sister when you do."

"I'll try to be as quiet as I can. G'night Dad."

Without another word Auggie turned and padded down the hall to the door at the end of it. Christopher stood where he was and watched as his father walked away from him. He was now totally confused. What the hell had just happened? He'd expected to get chewed out and grounded. He hadn't gotten the later and wasn't quite sure about the former. It was no secret in the family that his father had bedded more than his fair share of women in his day. Christopher had the definite feeling that he'd just been chewed out – if he'd even been chewed out – for starting down that same path; a path that – this evening for sure – was not one of his deliberate choosing. With a confused sigh, Christopher headed toward the bathroom feeling even dirtier than he had when he entered the house.


	30. A Celebration?

Thought perhaps my muse was taking a dirt nap. Apparently just a long snooze. This short little story came pouring out this week. It's kinda cute and will, hopefully, lead into another one that I'm working on. Suggested my my faithful beta - Mandy58. We hope that you will like it, too.

* * *

><p>The phone on August 'Auggie' Anderson's desk rang. The ring tone told him that it was his private line and not the one that came in through his personal assistant James Ridgeway. Even so he answered it "Anderson," when he picked up the receiver.<p>

"Hey, Dad," his son Christopher said on the other end of the call. "Do you and Mom have firm plans for tonight? Bex and I want to take you out to dinner. We have some things we need to talk to you two about."

"Hi, Son," the older man replied. "No. Nothing that I know about. Ask your Mom. I'm getting out of here early tonight for a change."

"Good. I've already asked Mom. We'll meet you at La Scalia at 6:30?" Christopher suggested.

"Yep. La Scalia. 6:30. Got it. Are we celebrating something?" Auggie asked with curiosity.

"We'll see you at 6:30, Dad," Christopher said as he terminated the call.

A pleased grin spread across Auggie's face as he hung up the receiver. He had a sneaking suspicion what his son and daughter-in-law wanted to tell them. Nothing would make him happier at the moment than being right about that.

# # # # #

At 6:15 Annie pulled into the parking lot nearest to La Scalia's of Arlington. Within a few minutes she and Auggie were walking into the upscale restaurant in the restaurant district of Arlington.

"May we help you?" the hostess asked as soon as Annie pulled the door open.

"We're here to meet my son and his wife at 6:30," Auggie answered. "Perhaps a reservation under Anderson?"

After a few moments the hostess responded, "Yes, there is a reservation for a C. Anderson. It appears that you are the first to arrive. Would you like to wait for the rest of the party or be seated now?"

"Now, would be nice," Auggie said and offered a charming smile in the direction of the young lady. "Do you have a braille menu?"

"Of course, sir," the young hostess said as she opened a drawer behind the hostess stand. "If you'll follow me, please."

Annie followed the hostess and Auggie followed Annie.

"Round table for six," Annie whispered to Auggie as they approached the designated table. "Where would you like to sit?"

"Next to you."

Annie sighed and placed Auggie's hand on the back of the chair closest to him. "Here ya go, Mr. Anderson. Now which side do you want me on?"

"My right as usual. You are my right hand gal after all."

With an audible groan Annie settled into the seat to her husband's right.

"Here you go ma'am, sir," the hostess said quietly as she placed the menus on the table in front of her customers.

Even though he was pretty sure what he was going to order, Auggie snaked his right hand out until the back of his fingers brushed against the edge of the menu slightly protruding past the lip of the table. Opening it, he scanned the headings and located the dinner entrees. He had not read too far down the interpoint printed page when he was aware of familiar sounding footsteps approaching the table. His face lit up as his daughter, Corrine, brushed a kiss of greeting on his cheek moments later.

"Hi, Dad. Mom. Do you have any idea what this dinner is all about? Chris and Bex have been so secretive about why they want us here tonight," Corrine said as she slipped into the seat beside her father.

"None," Annie replied.

"I have an idea," Auggie replied. "But, I'm keeping it to myself until it's confirmed."

"Aw, C'mon Dad. Spill. What do you think they want to tell us?"

"Nuh-no. Keeping my lips sealed," Auggie replied. "It might just be wishful thinking on my part. And if I'm right I don't want to spoil it for Bex and Chris."

"August?"

"Now, Annie. It's just a hunch I got when Chris called to gather us together tonight. Don't tell me you haven't been speculating the same thing since you got a call this afternoon."

"So you don't really know anything more than we do then?" Annie asked.

"Nope. Just a hunch; speculation; and wishful thinking."

"What are you thinking wishfully about, Dad?" Rebecca Larsen-Anderson asked as she, too, brushed a quick kiss on her father-in-laws cheek as a greeting.

"The reason you have asked us all here tonight," Auggie stated nonchalantly.

"And you think this is because …?" Christopher asked placing a hand on his father's shoulder before moving to seat his wife to the right of his mother.

"I'll let you tell us what you have to tell us and then I will let you know if it's what I thought," Auggie stated firmly.

"Okay," Christopher Anderson said. "And we're not going to reveal that until we've all ordered our meals. And yes, I'm paying for it all. So, please be kind." He chuckled lightly after his last statement.

"Chris! Why are you torturing us like this?" Corrine whined. "Just for that I'm going to order the most expensive thing on the menu."

"Because I can. And you'd probably order the most expensive thing anyway," Christopher replied cheekily. "Where's Brian? Thought he was attached to your hip lately."

"He couldn't get any of the other TA's to take his section this evening. Why so concerned? Didn't think you liked him much," Corrine responded.

"Don't. Was hoping that you'd wised up and dumped him," Christopher retorted.

"Children," Annie said tersely.

As his fingers skimmed the braille cells on his menu, Auggie couldn't help but smile a bit and think _'__Some __things __never __change.__'_

The server's taking of the drink orders interrupted the sibling interaction. A knowing smile briefly lifted the corners of Auggie's mouth as Rebecca only requested water rather than her usual wine or sweet tea – no alcohol or caffeine was telling. Auggie wondered if anyone else had noticed.

Just after Auggie had placed his drink order, Annie leaned in and whispered, "Bex is pregnant I think. She stayed away from alcohol and caffeine and the outfit she's wearing is loose fitting; a good way to disguise a baby bump."

"We shall see if that's so in a bit won't we?" Auggie replied non-commitaly. His odds of being right about the news his son and daughter-in-law had to share just rose to near certainty.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Christopher asked teasingly.

"Nope," Auggie said with a shrug of his shoulders. "How's work been going for you, Chris? I've heard that they're upgrading a lot of the computer systems."

For the next few minutes, while drinks were served and food orders taken – Corrine did order the most expensive dish on the menu, but only after Rebecca ordered a similarily priced entree – the conversation shifted to things that were happening in everyone's everyday lives.

After the appetizer and salads were served, Christopher cleared his throat loudly. "Okay, I think it's time to let many cats out of the bag. First I would like to officially announce that I've been promoted at work. I now have my own section to manage. With that came a substantial boost in my compensation. Which makes it much easier to afford the house that we just bought and will be moving into shortly."

Congratulations from all were offered.

"And you need the house because …?" Auggie asked pointedly.

"We need the house because I'm pregnant," Rebecca added shyly. "With twins. We couldn't not say anything much longer. I'm starting to show."

Annie sighed with pleasure. Auggie grinned broadly.

"You knew, didn't you Dad? That's your 'I knew it' grin," Christopher stated.

"I had a strong hunch," Auggie replied. "But no, I didn't know for sure until just now. Boys? Girls?"

"I'm having twin boys," Rebecca said softly. "Crys knows, but my parents have been out of town so they don't know yet. I had the ultrasound this morning and the blood test confirmed boys."

"That's so cool," Corrine exclaimed. "How long before we get to dote on the babies?"

"If I go to near term, about six months. It's still common for twins to come early though. So it could be closer to only five. I've got an easy job so I'm going to work as long as I can. We've been frugal and saving like crazy. Both for a house and for me to be able to take the time needed off work. Chris' promotion makes both much easier now."

"How do you feel about becoming a daddy?" Annie asked.

"I'm so happy about that. A little nervous, too," Christopher replied. "Dad, how did you feel when you learned Mom was pregnant with me?"

"That, son, is a whole 'nother story."

* * *

><p>Any guesses on what the next story might be?<p> 


	31. Generations

The muse has been stuck in this mode for a bit. It does have ideas for a few other stories not in this line, but one needs to see how things play out a bit between Parker and Auggie before it gets written. I'm working on stories from other POV's but the muse doesn't like playing nice with them at the moment. There are a few scenes written that just need a broader story in which to be placed. The holidays are coming and will probably generate stories of early Annie and Auggie surrounding them.

Mandy didn't find much wrong with my first draft. She's deemed this one sweet.

I might tweet with some of the actors, writers, director of photography, and producers of the original show these characters are derived from, but I really don't have much influence with them, or ownership of any part of the show. sigh

* * *

><p>Of all the people in the maternity waiting area, August Anderson was the only one pacing the floor. And this time it wasn't his wife having the baby. Actually babies; plural. Twins. He had twin grandsons on the way. As he paced Auggie had two thoughts: why was it the blind man was the only one pacing? And how much longer would his daughter-in-law's labor be?<p>

He had known the mother of his grandsons-to-be since she was in her early teens. She had been his son's best buddy for that long. They'd been married just a bit over three years when Christopher and Rebecca announced their impending parenthood. The pronouncement had not surprised him; even though he had lost his sight, he had maintained, even enhanced, the powers of observation that all spies relied upon to keep themselves and their country safe. He'd picked up on a few subtle tells that led him to the conclusion that his beloved daughter-in-law was soon to be a mother.

And now that pregnancy was nearing its end. And he was as nervous for her as he would be for his biological daughter. Hours ago the others in the waiting area had tucked their feet under their seats and left the 'blind man' to his pacing. Even his wife, Annie, had given up trying to get him to sit still for longer than a few minutes at a time.

Over the hospital's public address system came a few bars of Braham's Lullaby; followed shortly by a repeat of the same tune. A collective sigh of relief escaped the people in the corner nearest the doorway. A pleased grin worked its way across Auggie's features. He had paused momentarily as the music played from the PA system, then he resumed his pacing. He would not be calmed until he knew that babies and mother were all right.

"Auggie, come sit down now," Annie said as she touched his forearm as he passed by her.

"Can't. Not 'til I know everyone is okay."

"They are, dear. They would not have played the music if they weren't."

"But how do we know it was for Bex and Chris' babies? … Not until Chris comes and tells me everyone is fine."

"Well, you can just come and sit beside me anyway. You are making me tired just watching you. And I think the Larsens would like to stretch their legs out and not worry about you tripping over them." Annie caught his hand and tugged gently on it.

Auggie sighed in resignation and moved to sit beside his wife. As soon as he'd settled into the seat, Annie placed her hand on his and squeezed it reassuringly. Annie and Auggie sat holding hands for a few minutes, and then Auggie heard very familiar footsteps coming down the hallway – his son Christopher's.

"Moms, Dads, Crys. Corry. I'm surprised that all of you are here. I knew that I should have kept this quiet and just called you all after the fact," Christopher said lightly as he entered the waiting room.

"Whatever do you mean, Chris?" Charles Larsen commented teasingly.

"Well, Pops, I would not have called to let you know that Bex had gone into labor. Just called when the babies were here."

"How is everyone? Are Bex and the babies okay?" Auggie asked worriedly. He wanted to rise and shake the answers from his son, but Annie's firm hand kept him in place.

"Bex is tired and a bit uncomfortable, but she's good. Adrian is doing well. Bryan is having a bit of breathing problems and is on oxygen, but I'm assured that it's common for premies to have that sort of problem and he'll be fine in a few hours to days. He's not struggling enough that he had to be taken to the NICU; he's still in the room with us. They were 5 pounds something. Both scored well on the newborn assessments," Christopher explained.

"I thought that the doctors wanted to do a C-section," Corrine Anderson said.

"They wanted to, but once she went into active labor, they let that happen," Chris replied. "It wasn't too bad. Once Adrian was out, Bryan came easily and fairly quickly. And Bryan was the bigger of the two by a few ounces."

Christopher moved to sit beside his father. "What I have to say next is probably going to upset a few of you, but it's what Bex wants. I'm not in the mood to argue with the mother of my sons right now." He lightly touched his father's arm. "Bex wants my dad to be the first one to see the babies. And for the next few hours the hospital prefers restricted visitors; to give the new mom a chance to rest and the babies time to adjust to the outside world. Bex wants to give my dad some private time to meet his grandsons. Come with me Dad."

Auggie self-consciously hesitated. Everyone, to his surprise, told him to go. So he did.

Lightly grasping his son's right elbow with his left hand, Auggie followed him down the hallway and into the maternity ward. They were buzzed through the double doors; then they veered to the right to the second birthing suite.

Bex addressed her father-in-law as soon as he entered the room. "Hi, Dad. You are now the grandfather to two beautiful and healthy grandsons. If you can't tell, your son is about to bust his buttons with pride at what he's produced. I wanted you to have a few minutes with the boys before everyone else." Her tone was light and her voice stronger than Auggie had anticipated for what she had been through. He remembered how Annie had been after both her deliveries.

"How are you, Bex? You sound surprisingly good. I expected you to be a lot more wiped out," Auggie said as he approached the bed.

"I'm fine, Dad. I'm a bit surprised at how good I feel, too. I am tired, but not as tired as I have been after a marathon run. I expected to be that kind of wiped out, too."

"I'm relieved to know that you've come through this delivery in good shape," Auggie said as he trailed up the edge of the hospital bed to find Rebecca's hand. As soon as he was within her arm's length, she touched his trailing hand. Auggie took Rebecca's hand and brought it to his lips, softly kissing the back of it. "Thank you for …"

"It's okay, Dad," Rebecca said softly. "The boys are in their bassinets here at the head of the bed. Just reach out and you'll find them."

Auggie reached out and the back of his hand brushed against the end of one of the bassinets. He stepped up to it. "Who is this?"

"Adrian, Dad. Adrian August Anderson," Christopher said as he came up beside his father.

"May I?" Auggie said quietly his voice filled with pride.

"Of course you may," Rebecca said softly. "That's why you're here – to meet your grandsons the only way you can."

Slowly Auggie reached into the bassinet, located the sleeping baby, and began to gently unwrap the blanket swaddling the newborn. Tenderly, as he had nearly twenty-four year before, Auggie carefully examined the baby. He fondled the hair on his grandson's head, examined each tiny arm, hand and finger as well as the tiny legs and feet. Once he had checked Adrian out, he wrapped the blanket back around the slumbering baby. Then he stepped to his left and did the same with baby Bryan.

"What's his full name?" Auggie asked as he began to reswaddle the second baby.

"Bryan Charles, after my dad," Rebecca stated.

"They're just as handsome as their parents," Auggie said as he turned back toward Rebecca. "You know, I really didn't need this special treatment. I could have waited to come with Annie. In a way I would have preferred that."

"We know, Dad," Rebecca said taking his hand in hers again. "Chris and I wanted it this way. It just seemed to me to be the right way to introduce you to your grandsons," she said resolutely.

"I guess I should go back out to the waiting room. I know your parents are anxious to see you and the babies, too."

"I'm sure they are, but they can wait a bit. Chris told me that you were the only one pacing while I was in labor. There were times when he was asked to leave the room and he looked out the doors to the ward and saw you. Everyone else appeared to be calm and patiently waiting for the announcement. But not you. That's when I knew you had to be the first to see the babies and me."

"Bex … your mother should have been the first."

"Dad, she understands how I think. And how much I love and respect you. I know she's okay with this. Right now, before you go, I want a three generations picture. Chris, bring that chair over here by the babies."

The chair scrapped a bit as Christopher pushed it across the tile floor. "Here, Dad," Chris said as he took his father's hand and placed it on the back of the chair, "sit and I'll hand you the babies."

"Are you sure that you should be moving Bryan around like that?"

"It's okay, Dad," Rebecca said reassuringly. "The oxygen line is long and the nurses said to treat him just like his brother, just not to remove the oxygen feed unless they're here. He's not really that fragile right now. It's more a precaution than a hard need."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now sit down so you can hold your grandsons," Rebecca said firmly.

Auggie took a seat in the chair that Christopher had moved close to the bassinets. Christopher placed a still slumbering Bryan in his father's left arm and Adrian in his right, then knelt beside the chair.

"Drop your head a bit, Dad. So it looks like you're looking at one of your grandsons. … That's it."

"These boys are so tiny," Auggie remarked as he held a grandson in the crook of each arm. "I don't recall either of my children being this small."

"Yeah, but they'll grow to be big and strong. Just like Crystal and I did. They came early so they're going to be smaller than they would have if they'd been a single that had gone to full term. But they're basically healthy. I'm surprised that they have hair. It's a light brown by the way. They both have brown eyes, too. They look very much like the photographs of their father that I've seen. Not that he would, but he cannot deny they're his sons."

"I would never deny my babies," Christopher stated decisively. "Even if they didn't look a bit like me. They're mine and I love them; almost as much as I love their mother."

In Auggie's right arm, Adrian began to whimper. "Hi there, little man," Auggie began softly. "Let's not be waking your brother up, too. Chris, take Bryan from me, please."

Christopher took Bryan and placed him back in the bassinet. Auggie shifted Adrian a bit in his arm.

"Adi this is your PopPop. You don't know how happy your arrival has made me. You and me, and that brother of yours, are going to have lots of adventures together. I just know that we will. I'm going to teach you and Bryan all sorts of things that only I can teach you. … Oh, I know that whimper. You are about to bust out wailing for something to eat anytime now. I've got nothing for you, so I'm going to hand you over to your mommy." Auggie rose and took two tentative steps toward the bed then slid his right leg forward until it found the side of the hospital bed. "Here ya go, Bex. … Got him? … Now I am going to leave you four. … But before I go, I have a question for you,"

"What is it, Dad?" Rebecca asked.

"Why did you not want me to look straight at the camera?"

"With you looking at the baby looked more natural to me," Rebecca replied.

"Natural? … Ah, I see." A crestfallen look came over Auggie.

"No, Dad, it's not like that. Oh, God, no. It's not what you think," Rebecca said hurriedly. Steadfastly. "I snapped one of you looking straight ahead, too. I don't know which one I like best. That's all. The newsletter at work asked for a three generation photo. Wish it could be four."

Auggie's disappointed demeanor vanished but not as quickly as it had arrived. Why he had thought that Rebecca was embarrassed by his blindness he didn't understand. Maybe it was because he was getting a bit of flak from some members of congress who did not think a blind man should hold the position that he did. The constantly having to prove himself in this day and age was beginning to wear on him.

"I do, too," Auggie said wistfully. "I was a late life baby. I got started in having a family later than most … it just wasn't meant to be."

"Dad?" Christopher asked as he touched his father's arm lightly. "Are you okay? You looked disturbed there for a moment."

"I'm fine," Auggie said stubbornly. "Just the outside world trying to impose itself on this happy family day. I've banished it. I will deal with it later. Today is a day for celebration. Rest up as much as you can. Once you get those babies home, sleep will be a luxury for a while."

Christopher, chuckling softly, offered sighted guide to his father. "I've heard that. Crys is staying with us for a while to help out. Hopefully it won't be horrible."

Reluctantly Auggie took his son's arm. As accustomed as he was to a sighted guide, today that grated on him slightly, but he was in unfamiliar territory.

As they approached the doors leading out of the maternity ward, Christopher stopped and turned to his father. "What's bothering you, Dad? What has sucked the joy right out of this day for you?"

"Once again being blind simply sucks," Auggie acknowledged. "I'll deal with it in my own way. I'm fine. Really. Inside I'm doing a happy dance."

"Dad, …"

"Drop it, son. It's just that I took something the wrong way. I'm kicking myself for allowing that thought to even enter my mind. I know why it did, but that's something I deal with all the time. I shouldn't have to, but I do." A wry smile lifted the corners of his lips. "Sounds like your other son is awake now, too. Best go tend to him."

"C'mon, Dad," Christopher said as he pushed the doors open. "I have a doting maternal grandmother to bring back to meet her grandsons. Everyone else will have to wait until tomorrow."

As he passed through the doors from the maternity ward, Auggie forced a smile. He wasn't about to let anyone else see anything other than his happiness.

As he entered into the waiting room Auggie queried, "Annie?"

"I'm right here where you left me, dear," Annie replied.

"Okay, Mom Larsen, it's your turn," Christopher said as soon as his father had let his arm go. "Mom, Corry, Crys, Pops, we're sorry, but visiting hours are almost over and you'll need to come back tomorrow to see Bex and the boys."

Disappointed 'okays' filled the waiting room as Annie touched her husband's arm.

Auggie took the seat he'd vacated fifteen minutes earlier as Annie asked, "Did you get to hold the babies?"

"Yeah," Auggie said and genuinely smiled. "They're tiny. Neither of ours were that small. But they're strong. Even though they say he has breathing problems, Bryan has a set of strong lungs on him. He started to wail as I was leaving. He didn't want me to go, I think."

"He was probably wet or hungry," Corry piped in and giggled a bit.

"I like my reason better," Auggie remarked.

"Did you get to do more than just hold them?" Annie questioned.

"Yeah, first thing. The babies are beautiful," Auggie commented, pride once again evident. "Bex and Chris made some beautiful babies."

* * *

><p>Well?<p> 


	32. Somebody's Hero?

This one just sort of wrote itself. It's got a bit more drama than some I've written lately, but it's what the muse wanted to do. Hope most of you enjoy it.

Thanks to Mandy for catching a few typos, and for the title suggestion. (It IS the title of one of Christopher Gorham's films that is making the rounds of the film festivals right now. Only that one doesn't have a question mark in its title. '-))

Once again, I don't own anything of Covert Affairs - that still belongs to Matt Corman and Chris Ord. I just like to imagine their characters all grown up. And now with grand children.

* * *

><p>"Adi," Auggie said trying to keep the near panic he felt out of his voice. "Adi, please come to PopPop." He'd been unproductively searching the house ever since he'd discovered his grandson Adrian was not taking a nap in his bed. His twin brother, Bryan, on the other hand, was peacefully slumbering in his toddler bed. Of the two now almost three-year-old boys, Adrian was the more adventurous. There were only a few places in the house that the wayward toddler could go; Auggie had checked each of those rooms. He'd listened carefully for any sound his grandson might make; with hands and feet he'd searched the rooms for anywhere the child might have hidden.<p>

A slight breeze came in through the open door to the backyard – a door that was supposed to be closed and locked with childproof devices on the knobs. The tiny splash that came from the pool sent Auggie into a frenzy. He bolted through the open door and rushed toward the pool, stumbling over a piece of patio furniture as the sound of the pool alarm screamed at him. He rushed to the device on the side of the pool and silenced it. He needed to hear the sounds around him, sounds that would be drowned out by the shreik of the siren.

His ears straining to hear the faintest sound, Auggie sat on the edge of the pool and then slipped into the water. There was not a sound or ripple on the surface of the water. As his mind reeled at the possibility and screamed _'__No!__Oh,__God,__no!_' over and over, he porpoise dived to the bottom of the pool. Arms and hands scanned the bottom of it. Nothing. He surfaced, gasping for breath, then dove again. And again. Precious time was slipping away. Then he heard it – tiny bubbles escaping to the surface. He honed in on the sound, kicking toward it while his hands frantically searched the concrete bottom of the pool's deep end.

His hand brushed against a tiny limb floating in the water. He grasped the arm and shot toward the surface. Once he broke the surface of the water, Auggie filled his aching lungs with air and began to side-stroke toward the edge of the pool, carrying the tiny, limp form with him. Reaching the edge of the pool he hoisted, first the limp body of his precious grandson, and then himself from the water.

Kneeling beside the still body of his grandson, Auggie checked the boy's neck for a pulse. There was a weak one. Then he placed his right hand on the chest. It did not rise and fall to indicate breathing. Keeping his right hand on Adrian's chest, Auggie gently tilted the boy's head back slightly and then placed his mouth over his grandson's nose and mouth. A gently puff of breath lifted the boy's chest. Then it fell. Another breath in. And another. A twitch of the arms and legs. Auggie turned Adrian's head to one side as the child began to vomit the water he'd inhaled and the remains of his lunch. Using the index finger of his left hand, Auggie swept Adrian's mouth clean and then began to rescue breath again.

Sounds of his son, daughter-in-law, and wife returning from the shopping trip came from inside the house. Auggie did not stop rescue breathing, but felt for the pulse once again in the boy's neck. It was strong and he seemed to be breathing on his own. Cradling the still unresponsive form of his grandson in his arms, Auggie began to rock gently back and forth.

"Dad? Ohmygod. What happened?" Christopher asked as he knelt beside his father.

"Adi got out. Don't know how. Fell in the pool. I couldn't find him for so long …"

Beside him, Christopher dialed 9-1-1 on his phone.

The next few minutes passed in a blur – first responders, EMTs, ambulance. During the commotion Auggie scooted out of the way and sat huddled off to one, side knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, and face resting between his knees. He sat there quietly, too numb to even react.

"Dad," Christopher said as he sat beside his father, "Bex is going in the ambulance with Adi. Mom's going to stay here with Bryan. You're coming with me in the car to the hospital."

"No. I'm not. I'm fine. Go be with your wife and son," Auggie replied, barely lifting his head from between his knees.

"No, Dad. You are not fine. You're in shock. You're coming with me," Christopher said firmly. He stood and took his father's hand, pulling him up to stand beside him. With his father's hand firmly clutched in his own, Christopher walked through the house and to his car. Once at the car he made Auggie get into the passenger seat. Then Christopher buckled the seatbelt around his father before he went around the vehicle and got into the driver's seat.

"Chris, I am so sorry. I'm blind; I should not have been left alone with the boys. I can't see what they're up to … He wouldn't have eluded me if I could see. I could have found him quicker if …"

"Dad, don't do that to yourself … it's not your fault. You DID find him. You DID get him out. You DID save him." Christopher's voice was strong. Commanding. But his words did not comfort his father.

In the passenger seat, Auggie hung his head, burying his face in his hands. He began to shiver in his still damp clothes. "I've never felt so helpless …"

"Dad, you are far from that. You acted appropriately. YOU SAVED ADI, Dad. He's going to be fine."

"What if …"

"No, Dad. There's no 'what if.' There's only 'what is.' What is is that Adi is alive. You got to him in time. That's ALL that matters."

Auggie started to speak, but didn't utter a word. Instead he sat silently shivering as Christopher drove to the hospital. Once at the hospital Auggie robotically followed his son into the emergency room triage area.

"I'm Christopher Anderson," Christopher informed the woman behind the counter. "My son Adrian was just brought in by ambulance. His mother, my wife, is with him. I want to be taken to them. And my father pulled my son from the pool. He's in shock. I want him looked at, too."

"Christopher, no …"

"Do not argue with me, Dad," Christopher snapped. Then back to the woman behind the counter, "We need to be taken to the back now. My father is a public figure and I have a feeling that reporters are going to be swarming here before too long." Christopher's voice was quiet – not audible a few feet from where he stood – but it was firm and commanding. It was clear that, at the moment, he was in charge and expected his wishes to be obeyed.

His plea must have been taken seriously because the pair was immediately escorted to the emergency room. They had rounded a corner in the maze of hallways when the wails of a small child could be heard.

"Adi," Auggie said with some relief evident in his tone. "Adi's crying."

"Yes, it sounds like I have one very unhappy child," Christopher acknowledged, relief evident in his voice, too.

The cries quieted a bit as Auggie and Christopher got closer to the treatment room.

"Here we are, Dad. Here's the chair, now sit," Christopher commanded.

"What's he doing here?" Rebecca Anderson questioned with unmistakable disgust.

"Bex?" Auggie said as he took a step toward the doorway he'd just passed through. He wasn't that surprised at the greeting; but it hurt to hear just the same.

"Dad, where do you think you're going?" Rebecca said as she grabbed Auggie's arm.

"Out of your sight," Auggie replied dejectedly, taking another hesitant step toward the door and wrenching his arm from his daughter-in-laws grasp.

"Oh, no you're not," Rebecca said assertively. "I was speaking to my husband and pointing down the hallway at Richard Harrow, the reporter from the Inquisitor. He's gone into another part of the ER now. … You, however, are going to sit in that chair while I go find a doctor to take a look at you, too. Chris can deal with getting Adi calmed down. Someone was just in and drew blood from him. That's what roused him." Rebecca pushed on her father-in-law's chest as he took the few steps backward to where the backs of his legs encountered the edge of the chair.

A few feet away from where Auggie sat in the chair in the corner of the examination room, Christopher sat on the edge of the hospital bed and comforted his son.

# # # # #

A few hours later, Christopher led his father out of the ER and out to the car. They were headed back to Christopher's house. Although he appeared to be no worse for the near drowning, the doctors wanted to keep Adrian overnight for observation. Auggie had been checked out, and had convinced everyone that he was fine. Rebecca's sister, Crystal, had been called and she was going to stay with Bryan so that Christopher could take a change of clothes to Rebecca in the hospital and so that Annie could take Auggie home to McLean.

When Auggie entered Christopher's house, Bryan came running up to him, "PopPop! Where ya go? We were gonna go for walk when I got up."

Auggie squatted down and embraced his grandson. "I'm sorry Bryan. Adi got hurt while you were napping. I had to go with him and your Mommy and Daddy to see the doctor."

"You okay?" the little boy asked concern evident in his young voice.

"I'm okay," Auggie reassured as he gave Bryan a firm hug.

The little boy wriggled out of his grandfather's embrace. "Where Adi? Where Mommy?"

Christopher picked his young son up. "Mommy and Adi are still with the doctor. They'll be home in the morning. They're okay, too. Doctor just wants to make sure of that before he lets Adi and Mommy come home," Christopher explained to the little boy.

"Don't like that," Bryan whined. Then the little boy squirmed in his father's arms, "PopPop," he cried as he reached toward his grandfather.

"Dad, Bryan wants you to hold him."

Auggie took his grandson in his left arm and, right hand slightly extended before him, walked into the interior of the house.

"I want my walk," Bryan insisted to his grandfather.

"Not today, Bryan. PopPop is too tired now."

"You promised."

"I know. Things have changed since I promised. It's not happening today. Next time I come over." Auggie tried to explain to his grandson. He hated to disappoint his grandchildren, but, at the moment, he didn't trust himself to be alone with another small child. He'd just almost lost one grandchild; he wasn't about to risk possibly losing another.

"Bryan," Christopher began, "it's time for PopPop to go home. There's no time for a walk. Let's go to the playroom and I'll play a game with you."

"No. Walk with PopPop!"

"Bryan, please stop. PopPop is tired," Christopher explained. "Go, to the playroom. Now!"

Auggie lowered the tiny person in his arm to the floor. The child moved off, apparently in compliance with his father's decree. He returned a few moments later with his grandfather's white cane and brushed it against his grandfather's right hand. After Auggie took the cane from his grandson, the boy placed his hand in his grandfather's left hand gently tugging on it. "Please," he pleaded.

After closing his eyes and sighing in resignation, Auggie turned and headed for the front door.

"Dad, you're not giving in after saying no, are you?" Christopher asked with slight alarm.

"Yeah. Grandfather's prerogative. Just a short one – to the corner and back. A promise is a promise."

"Are you up to even that, dear?" Annie said coming to stand beside her husband.

Auggie shrugged his shoulders slightly as he located the handle on the door. "We'll be back in a few minutes. Bryan you must keep hold of my hand. No running ahead this time."

"Okay."

As soon as he stepped onto the porch, Auggie unfurled his cane and set it in motion before him. One stride across the porch, down three steps to the front walk; four strides to the sidewalk. As he determined that he'd gotten to the sidewalk by sweeping his cane in a 180 degree arc, Auggie turned to his right and began to walk toward the corner. Beside him Bryan began to sing a happy tune. Auggie couldn't make out many of the words, but he knew that his grandson was happy.

As they neared the corner, Bryan slowed and tugged on Auggie's hand. "Go back home. Hurry," the little boy said excitedly.

Turning and following his grandson's lead, Auggie headed back the direction he'd just come. "Why, Bryan?"

"Mean people in big truck. Me not like."

A determined, almost disgusted look came over Auggie's features. Unfortunately he had a suspicion what 'mean people in big truck' meant. Reporters with a remote broadcast truck.

"Mr. Anderson," an all too familiar voice hailed from nearby, "May we have a moment of your time?"

Whirling around and stepping in front of Bryan to shield him, Auggie responded, "No, you may not. I have nothing to say to you or anyone else. This is private time. Family time. Approaching me when I am with my family is reprehensible. Just leave me alone."

"Is it true that you rescued one of your grandsons from a pool earlier today?"

"Go back to the house," Auggie urged Bryan, turning and lightly pushing the boy away from him. Bryan took the hint and ran back to the house. Auggie then turned back to the reporter. "Whether or not that's true is none of your business. My son and his family are off-limits." Rage was beginning to overcome him.

"Mr. Anderson, we've seen the police report. We know that a two-year-old child was pulled from a pool a few doors from here. A house deeded to your son, Christopher. We know that the child was taken to the hospital by ambulance. How is your grandson, by the way?"

"My grandson is just fine. You just saw him run to his home."

"You have twin grandsons. How is the one that was transported to the hospital?"

"He's fine, too. I'm fair game when I'm at work. Rake me over the coals however much you like for what I do, or don't do, as DDI. But leave me alone otherwise."

"Mr. Anderson …"

"No. I'm done here," Auggie said authoritatively. He turned and, setting his cane in motion once again, began to stride purposefully up the sidewalk and away from the reporter. His pulse was rushing past his ears, somewhat obscuring the sound shadows of the houses as he passed them. If it hadn't been for Christopher meeting him at the end of his front walkway, Auggie might have missed the correct front walk.

"Dad?" Christopher said as he walked beside his father toward the house.

"They wanted to know about Adrian. If it was true I pulled him out of the pool. Wanting to rake me over the coals for letting him fall in in the first place. I didn't tell them anything."

"You don't know that they wanted to condemn you for that. We certainly don't," Christopher reassured.

Christopher had not offered sighted guide to his father at the end of the front walk, nor had Auggie reached out to take his son's arm, but walked beside him with his cane held diagonally across his body. When the tip of his cane located the stairs to the porch, Auggie held it vertically so that its tip tapped against each riser as he mounted the stairs. He was so upset by the encounter with the reporter that he did not trust himself to recall the number of steps in front of his son's home. The last thing he wanted to do was to stumble on a step he forgot was there with the reporter probably still watching him.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed, Auggie angrily pulled his cane apart and almost slammed it on the hall table.

"What's wrong, honey?" Annie asked softly as she briefly embraced her husband.

"What's wrong? You can't even begin to …" Auggie began and then stopped what would become a tirade if he allowed himself to continue.

"James needs you to call him. He's been trying for hours to reach you. He finally called me. He was worried about what he was seeing coming across the newswires."

"Crap. I bet my phone's at the bottom of the pool. Can this day get any worse?"

"Here's my phone. It's encrypted," Annie said as she pressed the device into Auggie's hand.

"Think it's safe for me to go out onto the patio to make the call? Any more reporters lurking about the back gate?"

"No, Dad, there are no reporters in the backyard. The neighbors would not allow such trespassers on their property. And there are no helicopters or drones hovering about the area. You can safely make your call to James out there."

# # # # #

As soon as the patio door closed behind his father, Christopher looked at his mother with concern. "I'm worried about, Dad. I've never seen him like this."

"In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him like this before either. If I had to guess, I think that what happened earlier this afternoon shattered his image of himself. He came face-to-face with one of his few limitations and it scared him."

"But he saved Adrian. …"

"Yes, he did. But I think all he sees is how close he came to not being able to do that. …"

"Mom that never crossed my mind. Dad's just my Dad. Yeah, I've seen him struggle a bit with some things, but I've never thought of him as limited because he couldn't see."

"He didn't either. Not until today."

"How can we …"

"I don't know, Chris. I don't know that he'll ever again be the man he was before Adi fell in the pool. He's been profoundly changed by that incident."

# # # # #

Auggie located and settled into one of the patio chairs before dialing the number to James Ridgeway, he personal assistant at work. "James, Auggie here," he said when James answered.

"_You don't know how glad I am to hear your voice. Are you and your grandson okay?"_

"We're fine. The doctor's kept him overnight for observation, but he was alive and protesting when I left him. They wanted to keep me, too; but I wouldn't let them. I'm fine, James, I'm fine. I'm so sorry that my personal life is intruding on yours again."

"_Don't worry about that, Auggie. I'm just glad that you and your grandson are okay. The news coming across the news feeds, and not being able to reach you … What the hell happened today?"_

"The boys were supposed to be taking a nap. Annie, Chris and Bex left to run a quick errand to the grocery store to get stuff for a cookout. I stayed with the boys, and Adi got up and snuck past me. How he got the door open to the backyard we don't know, but he did and fell in the pool. I had to go in and … I almost didn't find him in time. I almost lost a grandson, James. I almost lost Adi."

"_Almost only counts in horseshoes, Auggie. You know that. There were conflicting reports. I prepared for either possibility. I'm so glad that everything turned out, okay."_

"There's at least one reporter here now. Accosted me on the sidewalk near my son's house. I had my other grandson with me. I refused to talk with her. Told her this was a private matter and to leave us alone. I doubt that will stop them from making this into a spectacle."

"_In some of the reports I saw they're calling you a hero, Auggie. It's the feel good story of the weekend."_

"What? …"

"_What did you think they wanted? … "_

"With the flack I've been getting lately … I'm no hero, James. I'm anything but."

"_I can't make you talk to the press, but It's definitely not going to be a bad thing if you do. Could take the focus off of what's happening on the work front for a while."_

"You're telling me to …"

"_I'm not telling you to do anything, Auggie. I'm just encouraging you to talk to the press. At least one of them. I'm composing a press release, too. But a face-to-face isn't going to hurt."_

"You don't know that, James," Auggie said and chuckled a little bit. "Oh, can you set the wheels in motion to replace my phone? I think it's at the bottom of the pool."

"_Wheels will be put in motion. I'm glad that everyone's going to be okay. I'll see you Monday morning."_

"Yeah. Monday morning. … Oh, James, thanks." And with that Auggie terminated the call. He sat quietly thinking for a moment before he rose and headed back into the house. "Annie?" he said as he closed the patio door behind him, making sure it was securely closed.

"Here in the great room. Chris is packing an overnight bag for Bex. Crys has Bryan occupied in the playroom."

"Is that reporter still outside?" he asked as he made his way through the house.

"Yeah. And it doesn't look like she's in any hurry to leave. Seems to be lying in wait for someone to come out of the house."

"Go out and tell her that I'll talk to her, now. James' idea. He seems to think they want to praise me. If so, I could use the positive PR."

"I'll go talk to her, Dad," Christopher said as he came into the room from the upstairs. "I'll ask for a list of the questions she wants to ask. They'll edit it together however they like, but at least this way you have a fighting chance of a positive spin."

"She's going to want a statement from you, too, I imagine," Auggie added. "Are you ready for that?"

"Oh, hells yeah. I want the whole world to know how proud I am of my father," Christopher stated decisively. A firm knock on the front door startled everyone a bit. Auggie groaned audibly as Christopher opened the door.

"Christopher Anderson?" the edgy voice of the reporter who had cornered Auggie earlier asked. "May we have a word with you?"

"In fact, I was just coming to see if you were still here. If you'll give us a written list of questions you want to ask, we'll look at them and decide if we're willing to be interviewed."

"I don't work that way," she cautioned. "But here are my notes. Points that I wanted to cover. I just don't know how I'll phrase the actual question. Most of the times an answer just begs for explanation or clarification; or takes me off in a whole new direction."

"The specifics about my children and wife are not allowed. Understood? And we're only going to do the one interview."

"Understood. Thank you."

Christopher stepped back inside the house and closed the door before crossing into the great room to sit on the arm of the chair his father was now seated in. "You hear that, Dad?"

"Yeah. Can you tell from her notes what kind of spin she wants to put on her story?"

"A positive one. She seems to think what you did was remarkable. I can't exactly read all of her notes, but I can make out the word 'hero'."

"I'm no hero, Chris."

"You are to me. Always have been. I've always looked up to you. From the moment that I learned that not everyone had a Daddy like you. I love you, Dad," Christopher said placing his hand on his father's shoulder.

"Chris …" Auggie began, emotion once again coming into his voice.

"Let's go educate people," Christopher said lightly patting his father's shoulder.

"Yeah, let's go get this over with," Auggie declared rising from his seat.

Christopher followed his father to the front door, both men inhaling deeply and then slowly letting it out, before Christopher opened the door.

"We've decided that we'll talk to you," Christopher said as he stepped out onto the porch.

"We need to get both of you mic-ed," the reporter said. A few minutes went by as Christopher and Auggie had the tiny microphones placed on them. Christopher was uncomfortable with the process, but Auggie was accustomed to being wired for sound. Once the microphones were in place, Christopher and Auggie took seats in the rockers on the front porch.

"Mr. Anderson," the reporter began.

"Which one of us?" Auggie interrupted.

"Whichever one wants to answer, Auggie. May I call you Auggie?"

"No, you may not. Only my friends call me that. And you are not my friend. It's August to you," Auggie said harshly.

"Okay, August. Mr. Anderson – Christopher – would you tell us what happened here earlier this afternoon?"

"My wife and I put our boys down for their nap," Christopher explained. "We needed to make a quick run to the grocery store for a few items for the meal that we were having later. Dad offered, as he has many times since the boys were born, to stay with them."

"Did you think that it was okay to leave your father – a blind man – in charge of your babies?"

"Are you implying that my wife and I are somehow responsible for what happened to our son?" Christopher asked on the verge of anger.

"No, I'm not; but there are some of our viewers that are going to have that question."

"I did not – nor did my wife – find anything wrong with leaving our children in the care of my father. He took an active role, sometimes a more active role than my mother, in caring for me and my sister. Just because he's blind does not automatically render him unfit or incapable of caring for an active two-year-old."

"August, would you tell us, from your perspective, what happened here today?"

Auggie shrugged his shoulders cagily. "I went in to check on the boys; discovered one of them missing from his bed; discovered a supposedly childproofed door to the backyard open. Heard a splash and the pool alarm went off. I turned it off and did what any one else would have done, I slipped into the water and rescued my grandson."

"How did you locate him?"

"I heard the life leaving him, and honed in on that. I got him out of the pool, felt for a pulse – which I found – and resuscitated him. Nothing that anyone else wouldn't have done. This interview is over," Auggie stated angrily and began to rise from his seat and reached to remove the microphone.

"Mr. Anderson … August, please … wait. I'm sorry this is so difficult for you," the reporter said somewhat sympathetically.

"You think this is difficult? Difficult? It's a freakin' nightmare! And your insinuations that my son and his wife are somehow culpable; or that I'm incapable …"

"Mr. Anderson, August, that is not my intention at all. We often do stories of strangers saving a child from drowning or other calamity. We find these individuals to be remarkably heroic individuals. It's rare that we are able to focus on someone who is as remarkable as you are, Mr. Anderson. I'm sure that your family is very proud of what you have done here today. Isn't that right, Christopher?"

"Yes, I am proud of my father, but not for the reasons you might think. My father is a remarkable human being. But he is not remarkable or heroic because he is living a full, rich and successful life as a blind man, but simply because he is living a full, rich and successful life. I look up to my father as a child should look up to a parent. He's always been there for me. There was a time a few years ago when I looked up to him differently because he was blind, but that was the only time. He was here for his grandson today, perhaps in a different way than usual. Do I find what my father did today extraordinarily remarkable? Or am I extraordinarily proud of him? No, to both questions. He was here, he knew what needed to be done and he did it. It's as simple as that. I would expect nothing less of him."

"When you looked up to your father because he was blind, was that when you lost your leg?"

"Yeah. He survived, actually thrived, after a loss that was so much greater than mine. If he could do that, I knew that I would be okay in the long run, too. And I am. … Now, if you've gotten enough from us for your story, I need to be getting back to the hospital with things for my wife and child."

Auggie cocked his head slightly, the pride in Christopher's voice was unmistakable. The depth of the pride his son exhibited surprised Auggie. The tone in which his son spoke of him, humbled Auggie. He had no idea that his son, felt that way about him. Especially after a day like this one.

"Mr. Anderson … August, you seemed to be moved by what your son said about you. Do you have a comment?"

"No. No comment on that. I hope that you don't try to make me out to be some sort of super hero. I'm not that. I don't even think I'm any kind of hero."

"The real heroes never do …"

* * *

><p>Well?<p> 


	33. Still Somebody's Hero

It's been so long since I've posted anything, that I wonder if anyone will still be around to read it. It's been a rocky few months, but things are once again looking better. The muse was so distracted ... Just before the beginning of the New Year the dam broke and a couple of stories just poured out. This is one. Somewhere along the line the story in my head got hijacked and this came out. This was supposed to be more about Auggie and his grandsons. That one is still in the works. And there is a story that someone asked for a long time ago from someone else's point of view and there's another one about Auggie's son Christopher. One is almost done and will be going off to the beta sometime this weekend. I don't know how long it will take her to get it back to me as her life is rather busy right now.

Mandy58 has looked this one over and called it a nice slice of life in the Anderson's life.

In the last few months I have managed to acquire a few more autographs from Chris Gorham, but that's as far as my ownership of Covert Affairs goes. As Seezee said in her lastest story's Author's Note - I write for my own enjoyment. I share them here in the hopes that someone else might enjoy my story, too.

Without much more ado -

* * *

><p>"PopPop!" almost five-year-old Adrian Anderson yelled at the top of his voice as he ran across the great room and launched himself into his grandfather's lap.<p>

August Anderson groaned slightly as the rambunctious boy landed, quite unexpectedly, in his lap. "Hey, Adi!" he replied once he got his breath back. "What's with all this exuberance? If I've told you once, I've …"

"What's zubernce? And how do you always know it's me and not Bryan?" the child interrupted.

"I'm not telling how I know it's you, Adi. I know other people have a very hard time telling you and your brother apart, but not me. You are two very unique individuals," Auggie said as his grandson snuggled against him.

"PopPop, Daddy says that you're a hero. Tell me how. I'm almost five but he says I'm two today. Why he say that?"

The vague feeling that today was a day of significance became suddenly clear with his grandson's innocent question and remarks. Two years ago he'd almost lost a grandson. And himself. He'd been in an uphill battle with members of the Intelligence Committee in Congress about his fitness to be at the helm of the CIA. Their arguments – and a couple of spectacularly failed intelligence gathering sorties he had suggested and authorized – almost had him believing that he, as a blind man, was unfit to continue to hold the position of Deputy Director of Intelligence. Then when Adi had nearly drowned in the pool on his watch … He had succumbed to a rare moment of despair, of self-doubt. It had taken him several days to snap out of it – with a good bit of reassurance from his friends and family, and even the media – but he had regained his bearings and successfully fought the naysayers on the committee and retained his position of DDI.

"What did your Daddy have to say about why he says a big boy like you is only two years old?" Auggie asked as he shifted Adrian a bit on his lap.

"He didn't say anything. Just said you were a hero for giving me back to him and Mommy."

"Well two years ago today you fell in the pool at your house and almost drowned. I had to go in and save you. Because I can't see a lot of people think that what I did to save you was extraordinary. That's why they say I'm a hero. I don't think I am because I just did what had to be done. And that's why your daddy and mommy say you have two birthdays – one in a few weeks where you'll be five; and one today when you'll be two. You were almost lost to all of us that day and they say that what I did gave you back to us," Auggie explained softly.

"I don't 'member falling in the pool," Adi said seriously. "I don't 'member you getting me out. All I 'member is playing Marco Polo wif you. But you always find me. You don't play fair," Adi added with a bit of a whine.

Auggie smiled. It wasn't the first time one of his grandchildren, or even his son or daughter, had called his blind skills not playing fair. "You're right, Adi. I don't play fair. PopPops don't have to play fair. Now, where are your mommy and daddy and your brother?" Auggie asked as he lifted Adrian off his lap and stood up.

"Mommy, Daddy and Bryan went into the kitchen with Nana and Aunt Corry. Mommy brought cake and ice cream. We're having a party!"

Auggie had taken but two steps toward the doorway from the living room when Adrian slipped a hand into his and began to guide him.

"Adi, what are you doing?"

"Practicing. Daddy said he helped guide you when he was my age."

"I'm in my own home, Adi. I know where I am and where I'm going."

"I know. But I want to know how …" Adi continued stubbornly.

With a slight smile and internal sigh Auggie acquiesced to his grandson's gesture. Even though he thought that he loved all of his grandchildren equally, it was becoming apparent that he had a special bond with his firstborn grandson, Adrian. Even before that day two years ago, Adrian seemed to seek out his paternal grandfather's company and attention. There seemed to be a subtle increase in that bond since then. Both his grandsons clamored for his attention, but Adrian always seemed to be the first to come to him – like today. And now … Now he was the first to show an interest in learning how to assist his grandfather. "Okay, Adi. Today you will be my guide. It's a big responsibility. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay. It works better for me if I put my hand on your head. Is that okay?"

"'K."

Auggie shifted his hand to the top of Adi's head. "Just walk in front of me. I'll follow and I'll know when you change direction."

"Daddy said you put your hand on his shoulder."

"Daddy was taller than you are."

"'K," Adi said as he started off at a cautious pace.

"You can walk at a normal pace, Adi. I'm not going to break if you walk faster. Just don't run." Auggie chuckled a bit at the end of his instruction as Adi picked up a bit of speed.

"Dad? Is everything okay?" Rebecca asked as they entered the kitchen area.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. Why do you ask?" Auggie responded.

"Sighted guide in the house …" Rebecca stated.

"Oh," Auggie replied and grinned. "Your son wants to learn that. Now, when he can't really hurt me, is as good a time to start as any. He's in charge of me today."

When Rebecca gave him a welcoming hug, Auggie whispered, "We'll see how long it lasts. My bet is that he'll lose interest pretty quickly."

Just before she broke from the embrace, Rebecca whispered back, "You may be surprised."

Hugs were given by his daughter, Corrine, and her husband Paul. As he embraced his daughter, Auggie could not help but notice just how pregnant she was. Her baby bump had grown unmistakably in the last two weeks. "Not you, too," Auggie remarked as he slid his hand across the top of his daughter's protruding belly.

"No, Dad. I'm not having twins; just one very healthy baby. My due date has been revised to the middle of August. August 14 to be exact," Corrine said with a smile.

"No," Auggie replied with pleased surprise.

"Yes, Dad. I'm supposedly due on your sixty-fifth birthday," Corrine stated with obvious pleasure.

"This is no place for me," Auggie remarked as his wife squealed with pleasure and pushed between him and his daughter. He stepped back and lowered his hands only to find his left hand resting once again on a child's head.

"Where to, PopPop?" Adrian asked.

"Patio, I guess. Anywhere away from sentimental gushing females."

Adrian guided his grandfather, with what Auggie thought remarkable skill for the first time, from the kitchen, through the dining room and out the French doors onto the patio. The young boy announced the opening of the door, but only failed to mention that the door opened in to the right. When he stopped beside one of the patio chairs he took his grandfather's right hand and placed it on the back of the wrought aluminum chairs. Once Auggie was settled into the seat, Adrian sat on the cobblestone paved patio beside the chair.

"Adi, what are you doing?" Auggie asked with a touch of alarm when he realized what his grandson had done.

"Waiting for you to need me again."

"That is quite unnecessary, Adi. Your father and uncle will undoubtedly join me shortly and we'll have some adult beverages and conversation. Go find your brother and see what kind of mischief to two of you can get into. Go."

"Yes, Adi," Christopher said from behind where his father sat. "You've done a very good job of guiding PopPop. We are both very proud of you for that, but it's now time for you to go play and be a kid while us adults watch and have adult conversation." He brushed an ice-cold glass bottle against the back of his father's hand.

As he raised the bottle to his lips, a small child climbed into his lap. "Hi, PopPop. It's me, Bryan."

Wrapping his arms around his other grandson, "Hi, Bry! I was beginning to think you were mad at me or something."

"Adi was hogging you," Bryan said as he snuggled against his grandfather's chest.

"Well, that's never stopped you before," Auggie stated.

"I don't want to get between you and Adi anymore," the young boy said as he clambered off his grandfather's lap to join his brother on the play structure in the back corner of the small yard.

"Wait, …"

"It's too late Dad, he's gone," Christopher said as he pulled another of the patio chairs closer to his father.

"I don't play favorites, do I?"

"Not so that most people would notice. But you and Adi do have a special bond. It's just gotten stronger in the last two years. We can see it. Bryan knows it. He's got a special bond with Bex's dad. It's okay, Dad."

"Is that why he wants to be my sighted guide today?"

"I don't know, Dad. Both boys have been playing closer attention to how everyone interacts with you for quite some time. The last couple of months the scrutiny has gotten more intense. They've asked more questions, too. I've caught them walking around the house with their eyes closed. The other night they both tried to eat dinner with their eyes closed, too."

"What do you do when they do stuff like that?"

"As long as they're not about to seriously hurt themselves we let them be. We use it as a learning experience. We talk with them afterwards to see what they wanted to understand and what they learned from the experience. I've talked to them about what it was like growing up with you; about how we did just about everything that my friends did with their sighted dads."

"Just about everything … I tried so hard not to let this," he said gesturing toward his eyes, "get in the way of raising you and your sister. But sometimes I know it did. Did you ever feel …"

"No, Dad. Never."

"I remember one time, not so long ago it seems, when you cursed me for being blind."

"I know Dad. If I could I would take every one of those words back I would. That was the pain talking. I couldn't have gotten through those few months without you as an example of survival. … How did we get into this deep discussion?"

"I don't know. But are you ready to fire up the grill and char some steaks and chicken?"

"Oh, hell yeah."

A few minutes later the gas grill was fired and warming up, and Corrine's husband Paul Williams had brought the platter with the steaks and marinated chicken breasts on it out of the house and placed it on the counter next to the grill. Forty-five minutes later the steaks and chicken were done to perfection under the watchful eye of Christopher the master griller. The women had finished prepping the salads and vegetables, set the patio table and kept their men furnished with ice cold beer.

Once everyone had been served, Annie stood and announced, "We are gathered here today to celebrate two occasions. One is my son-in-law's successful defending of his doctoral thesis. I'm not going to even pretend to understand his subject or his stand on it. And the second is to celebrate a life almost lost. Paul, you had something that you wanted to add to your good news?"

"Yeah, I do," Paul said as he rose from his seat. "It seems that my dissertation review was also a job interview. I've been offered, and have accepted, an assistant professorship in the English and Comparative Literature Department at Georgetown. One of the professors is retiring and recommended me to fill his position. Corry and I will be staying in this area."

"Congratulations, Dr. Williams," Rebecca said from across the table.

Under the table Annie gave Auggie's hand a firm squeeze. He squeezed hers back; silently agreeing that it was wonderful that their small family would be together for the foreseeable future.


	34. Moving On

**I was a little bit overwhelmed with all of the comments after the last story. Thanks for the welcome backs. I'm a bit humbled. I am also very pleased with the new story alerts and favorite story alerts from new readers. Even though I write these for my personal enjoyment, it's nice to know that others enjoy them, too.**

**A bit leary of posting this one today, the second part of it is still in the works and still needs to go to the beta. These next two chapters are from a request months ago. Or at least they are what I inturpeted the suggestion to mean. For those who are just jumping in right here - it would be best if you jumped back a few chapters to the one titled "Chris's Crisis" and the two chapters immediately following it. (Chris's Crisis Part Two and Part Three.)**

**I want to say thanks to my beta - Mandy58. She has a bit of a personal thing going on right now, yet she makes time to review and correct my stories for me. She knows how much I appreciate that, but I want the rest of you to know that, too.**

**I have no affiliation with the reel (yes, I deliberately typed it that way) Covert Affairs or the reel Annie and Auggie even though only one of them appears briefly in this story.**

**Okay - everyone back up to speed on Christopher now? Good. Without futher ado -**

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><p>Christopher Austin Anderson pushed the door to the physical therapy gym open and pushed through it. He was tired – physically and mentally. It was coming up on six weeks since the accident that had claimed the other driver's life and forever altered his own. Physically most of his wounds had healed; the bones in his right leg – the ones held together with plates and screws – were still knitting themselves back together. They weren't healed enough to hold his weight, hence the wheelchair and walking cast – not that he was doing much walking or even bearing much weight on his right leg. Even though he'd thought that he was in pretty good shape before the crash, he was painfully finding out that he wasn't in as good of shape that he needed to be to push himself in the wheelchair for long distances or even use a pair of crutches. The lead therapist was pushing him hard; challenging his physical limits in every activity. The afternoon sessions were the hardest since he was fatigued from the morning session. But her observation about his state of motivation had been spot on. He was highly motivated to be done with rehab and to be able to return to classes in seven weeks. The harder she pushed him, the harder he worked. The only part of therapy he didn't like much was the sessions with the psychologist. He delved into subjects that Christopher would just as soon not acknowledge – his fears and anger. His main fear was that he would not live up to his parent's expectations – especially his father's unspoken expectation that his life would continue normally once this stint in rehab was complete just as he had; Christopher wasn't sure that it would happen that way. His life was never going to be the old normal again – losing part of his left leg had seen to that. And the fact that he'd been involved in an accident where someone had lost their life also weighed heavily on him; it didn't matter that the one who died had started the chain of events that led to the crash; a man had lost his life, Christopher didn't take that fact lightly. He'd never be the old normal again; all he could do was work toward a new normal.<p>

As he neared the end of the corridor that led from the PT gym, Christopher heard a faint sound that seemed oddly familiar. He wasn't sure he'd heard what he thought he'd heard until the red tip of a white cane came into his line of sight. Moments later the person wielding the cane came into full view and Christopher studied his father for a moment as he approached him. Underneath the determined gait was something else – weariness. The lines radiating out from the corners of his father's eyes seemed more prominent and his eyelids were partially closed; the disheveled mop of hair on his father's head disguised a receding hairline and was more salt than pepper; and his shoulders slumped unnaturally. The toll these last few weeks had taken on one August David Anderson was unmistakable.

"Dad. What are you doing here?" Christopher asked as he entered the main hallway of the rehabilitation facility near his father. The question and the sound of his son's voiced caused Auggie to stop and draw his cane in to his body.

"I've come to visit my son," Auggie said simply. "That's allowed isn't it?" The question was more than just a question. He seemed to be asking permission to be there.

"Yeah, I guess it's okay," Christopher joked and smiled. He was very happy to see his father; his father and his mother hadn't even called since he'd been here and Christopher was beginning to wonder if he'd been disowned for some reason. "Put your hand on my shoulder and I'll guide you the rest of the way to my room."

Christopher sat motionless just a foot from where his father had stopped and watched as he reached to his left and after a moment's awkwardness located his right shoulder. His father's touch, even if meant as a means of guiding his father, felt both familiar and comforting to Christopher. Once his father's hand was firmly on his shoulder, Christopher began moving on down the corridor toward the one that lead to his temporary room in the facility.

"How've the last couple of days gone, Chris?" Auggie asked as he followed his son down the hallway. That that would be his father's first question did not surprise Christopher in the least.

"They've been grueling, Dad," Christopher admitted and sighed. "I've never worked so hard in my whole life. I'm physically spent right now." There was no reason to attempt to disguise that fact; his father would know that from the sound of his son's voice if not from his labored movements. They traveled in silence for a few moments. "Step behind me Dad, we're at my room and the doorway won't fit both of us side by side." Auggie sidestepped to his left, shifting his left hand from his son's right shoulder to his left and followed his son into the room.

Once they were inside the dorm-like room, Christopher advised, "There's a chair, about five feet away, to the left."

Auggie turned slightly to his left and swept his cane in front of him until its tip connected with the metal leg of the chair. After he'd stepped up to the chair and sat down Auggie questioned his son again. "Being tired, is that your excuse for not returning my calls?" There was no mistaking the accusing tone.

"What calls, Dad, I haven't received a single call from you since I've been here. Mom, either. If it wasn't for Bex and the guys I'd have started to feel invisible. In fact, Bex, Harrison and Crys should be here shortly with a Five Guys burger and fries for me. The food here's okay, but I've been hankering a Five Guys since I left Glencoe."

The answer seemed to surprise Auggie; his eyebrows shot up and he sharply turned his head toward the sound of his son's voice. "I've called several times every day. It's gone straight to voicemail. That didn't bother me, but your failure to return them did. That's why I'm here now." Auggie's tone was a bit softer, but accusation was still evident.

"What number have you been calling, Dad? I've got two." Christopher shot back just as soon as the words were out of his father's mouth. He had a very good idea what the problem was.

"847 –"

"That's the one that I use when I'm at school. That phone is in the bottom of my duffel bag. I haven't looked at it since I've been here. I've been using the one that you got for me in middle school. The 703 one." Problem solved. Christopher considered for a moment going to his duffel bag and digging his school phone out and seeing how many calls he'd actually missed; then thought better of it until later. After his visit with his dad would be better.

"Ah. Okay. I'll make note of that. Now, son, how are you doing?" The explanation seemed to have appeased his father. Some of the worry seemed to slide from his features.

"Outside of being very tired, I'm good, Dad. I finally think that I'm making strides in getting my life back together. And that feels good." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either. But it was what he thought his father wanted to hear – that his son was getting on with his life.

"You're not sad? Or angry? Or even a little frustrated?" Auggie asked his son earnestly. The look on his face and the earnestness in his tone of voice clearly conveyed his concern for his son.

The questions took Christopher aback a bit. They hit very close to home and were subjects that had seemed to be avoided in the month that he'd been home recovering enough to be able to even begin the rehabilitation process. At least they were emotions that he'd tried to avoid showing or expressing. These last few days had caused him to get in touch with those feelings. The second day, away from the watchful eyes of his family, he'd crumbled; a barely contained rage had come over him. His first unassisted transfer from mat table in the therapy room back into the wheelchair had gone badly and he'd found himself in a heap on the floor in both physical and emotional pain. A string of curses that he didn't know was in him burst forth from him; and he had cried for the first time in a very long time. He hadn't noticed if any of the other patients had reacted, but after a moment of surprise, Jenny, his PT, had simply sat on the edge of the mat table and let him vent. When his anger and frustration had subsided to muffled sobs, she had knelt in front of him and quietly asked if he was through and ready to resume his therapy. When he'd tried to apologize she'd just brushed it off with an 'Everyone does that at some point or another. It's healthy a few times, but if becomes a pattern, not so much.' That she had taken it in stride allowed him to take it in stride also. He had felt a relief afterward. Now the question was how to answer his father.

"Yeah, Dad. I get sad and angry sometimes when I look at my lower legs. But that just makes me work harder. Frustrated? Yeah, I'm that, too. I'm frustrated that things can't go faster; that it's still going to be months before I can get my prosthesis and get the hell rid of this wheelchair. And that makes me work harder, too. … You're worried about my mental health aren't you?" Truthfulness seemed to be a good choice. A knowing smile appeared on his father's features; then morphed back into concern.

"Yeah. I remember my days in rehab …"

Even when directly questioned about that time, Auggie had said very little over the years about his time in the service or his time in rehabilitation after being blinded. All he'd said was that he'd learned as much about himself as he had about the skills that he'd need to live life in the dark. Christopher was surprised that he'd even mentioned rehab now and the comment was made with concern evident. Christopher wasn't exactly sure that he wanted to talk rehab with his dad right now. His father's journey through rehab would have been completely different than his upcoming shorter journey. Besides, living with his father for all these years had taught him more about the resilience of the human spirit than anything else. Experiencing and hearing about how people reacted to his father had taught him that most people considered blindness a tragedy and that those who persevered and led successful lives anyway were to be admired. He'd never really seen his dad as anything other than his father who did some things a bit differently than the other dads. That was it. The man sitting in front of him folding up a white cane was simply his father; a father who had taught him so much just by living a successful life. He had expected his children to give whatever they tried their best; even if their best was inferior to someone else, if they'd given it their best effort it had been good enough for him. Christopher looked at the expectant look on his father's face. He knew what he would tell his father – the truth.

"Dad, I grew up with you as a role model. Yeah, losing my leg is going to change my life, but not drastically. I have an academic scholarship, not an athletic one. So, I'm missing this summer session, but I'll be back in class in the fall. Maybe in the wheelchair, on crutches for sure, but I'll be there. This is not going to derail my plans. I don't need two legs to be an engineer. Am I angry? Of course I am. Am I going to stay angry? I don't know. Probably not. You didn't. Yeah, I've seen you angry and frustrated at circumstances that you wouldn't have been in if you could still see. But you were angry or frustrated with the circumstance not the being blind. And you found a solution to the problem. Maybe not the one you might have liked, but you found a solution. You persevered. And I will too. This is just a speed bump in my life; not the brick wall that you had to deal with when you were blinded."

"Chris this is not about me …"

"No, but living for nineteen years with you has taught me a lot. You survived, even thrived, in the face of what most consider a devastating disability. It didn't stop you. You picked yourself up, dusted yourself off and kept on goin'. What happened to me is nothing compared with what happened to you, Dad. In this you are my inspiration." The change in his father's countenance at the word 'inspiration' brought a brief smile to Christopher's face. He hated the word when used to describe him that way. "Don't bristle like that Dad. I know how much you hate that word. But I _am_ going to look to your journey in blindness for direction in dealing with this. I'll get through this. We'll get through this. I'll get my prosthesis and learn how to walk again. Maybe I'll have to wear a brace on the other leg. THAT upsets me more than having a prosthesis." There; he'd said it out loud. Voiced the one concern that really still bothered him the most.

"Why is that, Chris?"

"It's a sign of weakness. I don't want to be seen as weak. Oh, I'm not faulting Dr. Peterson. He did a wonderful job on me. The leg looks almost normal. Even the scars aren't horrible. And I don't have near the pain he thought I might. But the bone isn't healing as fast as it should and may not be able to support my weight without the possibility of breaking again. Damnit Dad, that's what pisses me off about this whole … thing. It's like my own body is conspiring against me."

A look of puzzled concern came over Auggie's features.

"Didn't Dr. Peterson say that in time it might get better, and you can get rid of the brace? But in the meantime, you'll just have to do what you have to do."

"I know Dad, but it still pisses me off," Christopher said with resignation. A few feet away it looked as if his father wanted to say something but changed his mind and began to fiddle with the elastic holding his cane in a bundle.

Christopher spoke again, "Dad, you have taught me a lot: how to play ball, how to treat a woman, how to solve quadratic equations; but the biggest thing I learned from you is how to win at life. And I'm still a winner."

"Yes, son, you are. Like you said a bit ago, we'll get through this as a family we'll get through this. I do have reservations about you going back to classes before you've completed rehab, but I do understand the reasons. Your uncle is expecting you to come back and live with him for at least one more semester. Your mom and I have discussed this, too; we'd prefer that. After that you and Bex can find a place and move in together."

Christopher grinned at his father's obvious discomfort at the thought of him and Rebecca living together. Or at least that's what Christopher thought his father was uncomfortable about. "Dad, Bex is has signed up for a room in a dorm and will be trying to get into one of the sororities. We have no plans on living together at this time. She was miserable at school here; she's the one that made the move and then told me that she'd done it. Really, Dad, that was all her doing. I would have told her to stay here if she'd asked. Gah, that came out all wrong. I'm glad that she's coming up to Northwestern to be nearer to me, but, despite what happened that day you walked in on us, we haven't moved on to the living together stage yet. Maybe we'll get there, maybe we won't. I don't know. Neither of us has even talked about that."

The look of relief on his father's face brought a broad grin to Christopher's features. Despite his own history as a lady's man, August Anderson was decidedly conservative where his own children's romantic liaisons were concerned. "What's so funny, Chris? I can hear you stifling a laugh."

"You are, Dad. The lothario of the CIA embarrassed by the thought of his own son …"

"What?"

"You heard me. I overheard Mom telling Corry to watch out for guys like you; the kind that only want women for one thing and sneaking off in the morning never to see or call them again. Don't worry, Dad, you raised me better than that. I've been with a few girls, but we thought we were in the forever kind of love. We weren't but it also taught me the difference between love and lust. I respect Bex too much to do that to her."

"Do what to me?" Rebecca Larsen asked as she entered the room from the hallway. In her hands a large sack from Five Guys Burgers and a vinyl six pack cooler emblazoned with the Coca-Cola logo.

"Move in with you up in Illinois before either of us is ready for that kind of commitment."

"Hi, Mr. A. That's what I love about your son; he's so old-fashioned about some things."

"Hi, Bex. I see you brought dinner with you. And that's my cue to leave and head home for my own," Auggie said as he stood and began to unfurl his cane.

"Oh, you don't have to leave on my account," Rebecca said as she plopped down on Christopher's bed.

"Ah, yes, I do. I've checked up on my son, And it sounds like it might start to get crowded in here before too long. Chris said his friends were stopping around tonight for a while."

"Harri and Crys will be along in a bit – they decided to eat at the Five Guys – and I haven't talked to the rest today, but that was the plan. Just because Chris is stuck in here for a while doesn't mean he has to miss out on stuff," Rebecca said as she ran her hand over the stubble on Christopher's head. "Hey, you're finally beginning to get some hair up there. And the scar will be hardly noticeable in another few weeks. Oh, Mr. A. do you need me to walk you out to the lobby? Your driver was just pulling up as I was getting out of my car."

"Thanks for the offer, Bex, but I can find my way out," Auggie said as he swept his cane to his right in search of the door.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Chris," Auggie responded as he paused in the doorway and pulled his cane upright against his body. He did not turn back into the room.

"Thanks for coming by. Are you okay with things now?"

"Yeah. I'm good with everything. I'll let your mom know, too," Auggie replied over his shoulder by turning his head slightly to the left.

With a couple of quick gestures Christopher told Rebecca to follow his father briefly. She handed him the Five Guys bag and went to the door. After Auggie made the turn onto the main hallway she quickly crossed to the corner and watched for a few moments before returning to Christopher's room.

"Why did you want to me follow your dad, Chris? He said he was good with getting out to the lobby and he was. It's not like it was a complicated route back there," Rebecca said when she got back to the room.

"I wasn't sure how much attention he was paying when I guided him back here. He's got a lot on his mind right now, and when he's distracted it's easy for him to get lost, even on a simple route if he's never traveled it before. I just wanted to be sure he got there okay," Christopher explained as he opened the burger sack and began to spread its contents on the bed. "Which one of these is mine?"

"The thickest one; got it just like you like your burger. And before you ask, there's no fries 'cuz they don't travel well. I'd rather hear you moan and groan about no fries than cold soggy ones."

"You know me too well, Bex."

"After hanging with you for almost ten years now, I better know what you like and don't," Rebecca replied and smiled broadly as she pulled the chair recently vacated by Auggie up to the edge of the bed. "What did you and your dad talk about? Seemed pretty deep when I came in."

Christopher took a bite of his burger, chewed and swallowed before he answered. "He was worried about me. I hadn't been returning his calls; because I wasn't checking the phone he was calling. Which reminds me, I need to get that one out of my duffel bag and check it." Christopher set his burger down and began to maneuver the wheelchair away from the side of the bed.

"I've got it," Rebecca said jumping up and quickly crossing to the closet.

"I'm perfectly cap …" began as his eyes followed as Rebecca lithely hopped off the bed and hurried to the closet. She was wearing a pair of cutoff shorts that showed off her shapely legs to perfection. Briefly a pang of jealousy visited Christopher – jealousy that his best friend had two legs and he no longer did.

"I know you are," Rebecca said softly. "Go ahead and eat while I find your phone."

Christopher sighed exasperatedly and picked his burger back up and took another bite. He knew that some things would be a losing battle with Rebecca. Her wanting to take care of him was one. It was sort of nice to have someone, besides his mother, who cared enough about him to want to do that for him.

Rebecca located the phone and brought it over to him in the time it would have taken him to just maneuver the wheelchair over to the closet since he hadn't fully gotten the hang of using the wheelchair yet. He took the phone from her and turned it on. After opening the 'missed calls' folder, Christopher quickly scanned the list and counted sixteen calls from his father and twenty from his mother. There were even a couple from his Uncle Austin, and his other uncles and even one from his Aunt Jenna. After finishing his burger and a can of Coke, Christopher dialed his Uncle Austin's phone. Austin answered on the third ring.

"Hi, Uncle Austin. It's me, Christopher."

"Chris! It's so good to finally hear your voice. How are you?" His uncle's pleasure and concern were evident even through a less than perfect connection.

"I'm good. Tired, but good," Christopher replied with forced cheerfulness. He was pleased to talk to the man who had been a surrogate father for so many months, but there was also a part of him that didn't want to answer the probing questions that he knew his uncle would ask.

"Oh, really?" There was no mistaking Austin's disbelief.

Christopher sighed. His uncle was almost as perceptive as his father. Christopher thought for a moment about how he could qualify his statement, "I'm good for where I'm at in the process of getting my life back together. I'm a long way from fine, but I'll get there."

"Okay, that I can believe," Austin replied. "Now to what Jenna and I need to confirm; you are planning on returning to Illinois for the beginning of the fall semester."

"You've been talking to Dad, haven't you?"

"Of course, he's my brother," Austin replied lightly. "Actually I got that bit of news from your mother. She's not happy about that plan."

"I know. But I have my reasons for returning on time. Nothing's changed there."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" There was more curiosity in Austin's voice than reproach.

Christopher briefly closed his eyes in frustration. Yes, he was sure that he was going back to classes on time. "Yes. I HAVE to do that Uncle Austin. I have been assured that I will be ready and able to make my way around campus without any trouble. Please don't tell me that you and Aunt Jenna don't want me to come back. I didn't mean to wreck your car." Until just then the thought that his aunt and uncle wouldn't want him back in their home hadn't crossed his mind.

"It's not about the car, Chris. We just want to make sure that it's the best thing for you. Are …"

"Yes, Uncle Austin I'm sure this is the right thing to do. I'm not letting what happened derail my plans. Or my friend's plans," Christopher said speaking over his uncle; his determination clear.

"You're a lot like your father," Austin remarked when Christopher paused to take a breath.

"How so?" Christopher asked with surprise. It wasn't the first time he'd been compared to his father, but those had been because they looked a good bit alike, or had brains for the technical stuff; never a comparison for determination.

"Once he wrapped his head around what had happened to him, he was determined that nothing was going to get in his way. Yeah, he held on to a few things from the past in hopes that one day something could be done for him; but one day he just let it go and moved on. You seem to be much like him in that respect. What do we need to do to be ready for you when you come back?"

"Nothing. I'll be on crutches full time by then; so I won't need anything special. But thanks for asking. Dad said you got everything squared away on the car?"

"Yes, that business is all taken care of. You're sure that you don't need adjustments, even temporarily here?"

"Thanks for the offer, Uncle Austin, but I don't want or need anything special. I've been assured that I'll be good to go in a few weeks and that shortly after I return to campus I'll be getting my new leg …"

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><p><strong>Yes, I'm leaving it there. Part two will be up in the next week or so and will continue from there and Chris will continue his journey back to 'wholeness'. <strong>


	35. The Next Step

**Here's the last part of Christopher's journey back to 'wholeness'. The last little bit is also about Auggie coming to terms with what happened to his son, too. **

**Now that this is out of me, I'm working on a couple of other stories. At least one will be to apease those of you who have asked for stories about Annie and Auggie right after they get married and before children. I know what you're looking for and all I can say is that sometime soon you should have what you want. Location research is going slower than I'd hoped so I cannot/will not quarentee that it will be the next one, but it's coming. I've also got one in mind to explain a couple of references in this one.**

**I didn't get many reviews on 'Moving On'. Since that's not most here's main interest I didn't expect many. **

**I've had double help on this one. I thank both Seezee and Mandy58 for their contributions.**

**Once again I need to remind everyone that I have no real connection to the characters from the USANetwork show Covert Affairs. Like most everyone else here, I only like to imagine the characters in different scenarios and write them out for my own amusement and share the stories with all y'alls.**

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><p>It was late afternoon when Christopher Austin Anderson pulled into the driveway of his uncle's suburban Chicago home. At his father's insistence, he had broken the 13 plus hour drive into two days. In the past he'd done it in one long trip, but he was glad he'd acquiesced to his father's directive to stop somewhere after the first seven hours. Even though he'd been cleared weeks ago to drive and was in the best physical shape that he'd ever been, that first day's drive had taxed him more than he'd anticipated. Refueling the car that he'd purchased with the funds his uncle Austin had received for his wrecked car was a bit of a challenge on crutches. Christopher was very glad that he'd thought things through and had a change of clothes and his toiletry bag in a backpack that he could sling on his back when checking into the motel the night before. The only thing that had made the drive easier was the fact that he'd been able to get rid of the brace on his right leg; the last x-ray and bone density scan had shown that the almost shattered bones, now held together with screws and plates, had knit together well enough to support the young man's full weight without the risk of fracturing again.<p>

In the last few weeks Christopher had discovered that things that he'd never given a second thought to, now took a bit of thought and planning to execute while having only one leg and being on crutches. Ever since he'd woken up in the hospital ten weeks ago missing the lower part of his left leg, Christopher had worked hard to relearn how to do everyday tasks. At first he'd been angry about the changes in his life, but slowly the anger resolved into a reluctant acceptance of a life altered by circumstances beyond his control. There were still days, like today, when his level of frustration would become elevated because he would need assistance to get his gear into the house and up to the room he'd occupied for most of the last year; the room that had once been his father's.

After pulling his car into the spot to the left of the garage – where his old, beat up car had been when he left in his uncle's cast off Mercedes last May – Christopher sat for a few minutes with his head leaned back against the headrest. He was here, back in his second home, but he suddenly had a case of nerves. A few weeks back when his uncle had transferred the funds from selling Christopher's old car and the funds that the insurance company had settled the claim on Austin's old Mercedes for, Christopher had picked up on an undercurrent of something akin to guilt in his uncle's conversations with him. Why his uncle would feel guilty for simply providing a reliable vehicle in which to drive back to DC was beyond Christopher. But he knew that his Aunt Jenna would probably cry over him when he walked into the house and then fuss over him for the next few weeks. Christopher inhaled deeply and slowly let it out before reaching for the car door handle. He startled slightly when he noticed his Aunt Jenna standing beside the car. After opening the door, Christopher untangled his crutches from the pieces of the wheelchair in the front passenger seat and swung his legs out. With as much grace as he could muster, he stood up and situated his crutches in his hands.

"Chris, it's so nice to have you back here," Jenna said as she gingerly hugged her nephew.

"I think it's good to be back," Christopher replied.

"Do you need some help getting your stuff into the house and up to your room? I can take a light load in now if you'd like. Austin's still at the office, but I expect he'll be here in an hour or so for the heavier stuff."

"I don't have much more than what I left here with last spring, Aunt Jenna. I can get my backpack; but if you want I'll let you carry my duffel bag, it's not that heavy," Christopher said as he punched the button on the remote that unlocked the trunk of the five-year-old Mercedes sedan. In a pinch he could have handled both the duffel and his backpack, but, he reluctantly admitted, it was nice to have help. And, anyway, he figured that his aunt would fuss at him until he relinquished the duffel bag to her. Once the bags were out of the trunk and the trunk lid closed, Christopher said, "You go on ahead, Aunt Jenna. I'll get there eventually."

That last statement wasn't exactly the whole truth; he could have gone ahead and not slowed her down in the least, but, right now, he didn't want his aunt behind him where she had to see the remains of his left leg. He'd never been a vain person, and he wasn't exactly ashamed of his body now, but he wasn't ready for his aunt's stares. At least he didn't think that she'd run to the bathroom and toss her cookies like one of his friends back in McLean had done. He almost wished he'd worn a pair of regular jeans instead of jean shorts.

When he entered the house a few minutes later, Christopher heard his aunt on the stairs to the upper level. He shrugged out of his backpack and set in against the wall in the hall outside of the downstairs bathroom while he went in to freshen up a bit. When he came out the backpack was gone. Christopher huffed in exasperation and headed into the kitchen area. Leaving his right crutch leaning against the table in the breakfast room, Christopher went to the cupboard beside the sink and got a glass then maneuvered over to the refrigerator and got some ice and water from the dispenser in the door. As he returned to sit at the breakfast table he noticed his aunt in the doorway to the kitchen carefully observing him.

"There's tea in a pitcher in the fridge, and I stocked up on your favorite soda," Jenna said as she came the rest of the way into the room.

"Thanks. Water's good for now."

Jenna pulled out the chair across the table from Christopher and sat down. "Looks like you're managing okay."

"Yeah, I'm getting by. I don't mean to be rude here, and don't take this the wrong way, but … please don't help me unless I ask for it. This may be permanent, but these aren't," Christopher said gesturing toward his legs and then touching the crutches now propped against the wall.

"Okay. I get that. What has you mad at your Aunt Jenna?" Jenna asked a bit sheepishly.

"You took my backpack upstairs. I could have done that myself. I could have even taken my duffel bag up," Christopher stated firmly.

"Oh. I wasn't sure. And I noticed the wheelchair in the car."

"Yeah. I haven't used that in a while, but my PT insisted that I bring it with me. She said I might want to use it on campus; but I'm not too keen on that. I'm going to keep it in the car until I know for sure where my classes are. Oh, just for your information, my therapist didn't suggest I might need it because of the missing leg, but because of the damage to the other leg. It's not one-hundred percent yet and I sometimes have a lot of pain in it if I'm on it for too long – like what might happen if I have to hustle from one end of campus to the other. … Oh, have I gotten any mail from the university? They're supposed to issue me a special parking permit. I've got one for everywhere else issued by the Commonwealth of Virginia. … Some days I hate having to use that thing, but other times it's definitely a good thing to have." He smiled a bit at the end of his short monologue.

"I've got the picture – fiercely independent as always; just like your dad. Yes, there's been a bit of mail that's come for you in the last couple of weeks that I didn't bother to send on to you in Virginia. A couple of large manila envelopes from the university. They're in your uncle's office. I'll go get them now," Jenna said as she rose from her seat.

While Jenna was gone to get the mail Christopher leaned down and massaged the tip of his stump. He was getting signals from that part of his leg that his brain was still interpreting as coming from his missing foot. He knew he was one of the luckier of the unlucky ones to get the phenomenon called phantom limb syndrome. The occurrences of it were getting fewer and farther between and might eventually end all together, but they were still troubling and painful when they did hit.

He didn't hear his aunt come back into the room until she dropped the mail on the table where he was sitting. "Here's your mail."

Raising back up to an upright position Christopher caught Jenna's puzzled look. "I'm trying to massage a cramp out of my foot. It's called phantom limb syndrome. Just one more thing I'm learning to live with."

"We, Austin and I, read about that when we were researching … Well … what happened to you. We hoped that it wouldn't happen to you along with everything else."

"My leg was amputated, Aunt Jenna. It's just a word. It doesn't bother me if you say it. Just like the phantom limb thing doesn't bother me that much. More of a nuisance," Christopher explained to his obviously embarrassed aunt. He tried to make his tone light and to downplay the frustration of the phantom limb pain. Yes, the sensation that his left foot was either being torn apart or caught in a vice was happening less, but it still hurt – physically and mentally – a lot.

Opening the first envelope from Northwestern University, Christopher scanned the message inside from his advisor. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

"Good news?" Jenna quietly asked and patted him on the shoulder.

Christopher nodded slightly. "Yeah. Pretty good. My advisor got my schedule adjusted. My classes are clustered in several areas of campus with ample time for me to get from one cluster to the next. And I have time in the late afternoon where I don't have classes and can schedule my therapy sessions and appointments with the people who are going to make my new leg. He even sent me a map of campus with my classes marked on it in different colors and the location of the disabled student parking spots." Christopher opened up the campus map, spread it out on the table and studied it for a few minutes. A broader smile crept across his features as he located each class on the map. "I'm going down to campus tomorrow to check things out, but it looks like I won't have any long hikes between classes. I'm in pretty good shape, but managing on the crutches can get pretty tiring sometimes."

"I can only imagine," Jenna said as she moved off into the kitchen proper to finish the supper of Pasta Bolognese, salad, and fresh homemade Italian bread.

His uncle entered the house less than half-an-hour later, but went straight upstairs to change from his custom tailored suit into more casual khaki shorts and a pale yellow polo shirt. When Austin came into the kitchen area he went straight to his wife and softly kissed her on the cheek before sauntering over to the refrigerator and pulling out an ice cold bottle of artisan beer. Glancing over to Christopher sitting in the breakfast area he said, "I'd offer you one, but you're not quite old enough yet."

"That's okay Uncle Austin. I'm still taking some medications that I'm not supposed to have alcohol with even if I was of age," Christopher responded as he put the finishing touches on the plates of romaine salads. He'd insisted on doing something to help his aunt get supper on the table – just like he had before he'd left to go home for that long weekend almost four months ago.

As he approached the table, Austin silently commanded Christopher to stand up with a movement of his head; he then carefully scrutinized his nephew. After they'd both sat back down and he'd taken a long draw on his bottle, Austin said, "Not nearly as bad as what I'd been lead to believe, for that I'm thankful. You're getting along okay?"

Christopher looked at his uncle and was once again struck by how much Austin favored his youngest brother. When they, his uncle and he, were together they were often taken for father and son. Even though there was three years age difference between Austin and Auggie, Austin looked as if he were the younger of the two brothers. He didn't have the deep furrows in his brow, or the deep crow's feet radiating out from the corners of soft brown eyes that defined Auggie's features. There were definite differences in the two brothers but there was no denying the kinship.

"Yeah, I'm doing okay. Not great, but I'm working toward that," Christopher replied and smiled. He knew better than to be coy with his answers with his high-powered attorney uncle; he'd seen his uncle at work in the courtroom – the witness hadn't known what hit him when Austin had cross-examined him. And it had been just a simple civil case. His uncle might appear mild-mannered with boyish looks that belied his true age, but he could spot deceit a mile away.

"Good. Glad to hear that. Was a bit concerned from what your dad indicated." Austin took another long drink of his beer. "I see you used the insurance money from my car and what I got from selling yours wisely. Nice solid vehicle you brought back with you."

"Yeah, I tried to come as close as I could to the one of yours I wrecked …"

"Christopher, please stop feeling that you wrecked my car. The only thing you did wrong was be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The other guy was the one who wrecked my car. And don't you ever forget that!" Austin slapped the table for emphasis; Christopher startled slightly at the intensity of his uncle's declaration. "I don't care about the car, not then; not now. All we, your Aunt Jenna and I, ever cared about was the human cargo it carried. We were, and still are, very angry about what happened to our nephew. When we get through with the bar that continued to serve the bastard that hit you long after he was legally drunk …"

"What do you mean Uncle Austin?"

"I mean that I hired an investigator to track down the whereabouts of the other guy before he hit you. I've got the BAC evidence taken at autopsy, some other evidence; and a buddy of mine down in Virginia has begun litigation of the club and server that continued to serve him. The club's liability insurance carrier has already agreed to pay for all of your current medical and rehab bills related to your injuries. They do not want the publicity of a full on trial. Now we're working on coming to an agreement for pain and suffering …"

Christopher groaned audibly. "What? Uncle Austin why are you doing this? I don't understand and really wish you hadn't … When did you start this?" Although he should not have been, Christopher was surprised at his uncle's actions. When he'd been in the hospital he'd been approached by a personal injury attorney but had sent the woman away.

"I put the wheels in motion the Monday after you were hurt. It's what I do, Chris. You have been permanently damaged due to someone else's negligence ..."

Jenna placed a plate of pasta before each man and shifted the salads that Christopher had made around so there was a salad near each person's table setting; she then gathered up the left over salad vegetables and took them back into the kitchen. Austin stopped speaking as soon as the plates settled onto the table. There was a strict rule in place that talking 'shop' at the dinner table was forbidden. Although the subject wasn't strictly 'shop talk', Austin dropped the subject and shifted the conversation to sports. After bringing a glass of milk for Christopher and a glass of red wine for herself, a basket of bread and her own plate of pasta to the table, Jenna enthusiastically joined the men in their assessment of recently played Cubs games and the merits of certain players.

Over the next few weeks Christopher settled into the routine of his aunt and uncle's home and then to his classes. To his pleasant surprise, most things about going back to school went relatively smoothly. The hardest parts for him were the casual encounters with classmates and professors who he'd known before he'd had his wreck. He didn't know who was more uncomfortable during the encounters – him or them. Meeting new people was far easier even though at times a bit awkward. After the second week of classes, Christopher removed the wheelchair from the car and stowed it in his uncle's garage. He had no use for it anymore.

Christopher and Rebecca spent as much time as they could together even though many of their classes were as far apart on campus as they possibly could be; they managed to get together daily just to talk. Weekends found them studying together either at Austin's house or in one of the campus libraries.

When he began his appointments with the prosthetist Rebecca made time to go with him so that she'd know what was going on. On his first assessment appointment she asked as many questions as Christopher did and was as fascinated by all of the component choices – especially the feet – that could go into the new prosthesis. Many questions about Christopher's lifestyle later, Cameron, the prosthetist, selected three potential prosthetic feet to try out when Christopher was finally able to be fitted for the actual prosthesis. Both young adults were disappointed when Cameron determined that although Christopher's residual limb appeared ready to be casted so that he could start to make the test socket for the new prosthesis, he wanted to wait a week before he did that. Christopher was given a smaller shrinker sock to wear on his residual limb for the next week and an appointment at the prosthetics clinic the following afternoon to get a more specific prescription for the prosthesis he needed.

The next week, Rebecca once again accompanied Christopher into the Chicago suburb of Buffalo Grove to the office of Cameron Staley his prosthetist. This time she sat, mostly quietly, in the corner of the fitting room while Cameron measured both of Christopher's legs and then wrapped wet plaster strips around what was left of Christopher's left leg. She laughed lightly when Christopher grimaced a bit when Cameron applied the first of the plaster strips; and laughed even louder when Christopher shot her a mean look. A few moments later he joined her in the laughter. Cameron just kept working away as the two young people settled into conversation about where they were going to have dinner once the appointment was concluded. Forty-five minutes later, once the plaster cast had enough layers and had sufficiently hardened and been slipped off Christopher's left leg, the young couple headed out to Christopher's car. For the first time in a few weeks, Christopher was feeling encouraged – things were finally moving toward his goal of walking again.

Christopher was alternately excited and nervous when he returned to the prosthetics shop two weeks later. As he entered the fitting room with Cameron his gaze settled on an item leaning against the worktable.

"Is that my leg?" he asked quietly pointing at the prosthesis. What he was seeing didn't look anything like he thought it would. Rebecca rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.

"Sort of," Cameron replied. "It's a mockup of a socket, pylon and foot that I want to test you with today. We've got some fine tuning to do before I craft your final leg."

Feelings of relief washed over Christopher as he made his way the rest of the way to the stool at the near end of the parallel bars. As Christopher settled onto the stationary stool and Cameron onto the rolling one in front of Christopher, Rebecca sat on the light grey folding chair in the corner slightly behind Christopher. She wore a neutral expression that Christopher could not quite read. She had been so supportive of him since the beginning of his ordeal, but there were days when he wondered how much longer she'd chose to hang around with him. He knew that she'd had many guys ask her out on dates since she'd been on campus at Northwestern. She'd politely turned everyone down. How much longer would she do that? Because of him she was missing out on a lot of campus life. They had taken in a lot of the events and activities, but still, going to some of the events with a one-legged guy on crutches couldn't have been all that much fun for a pretty, vivacious girl like Rebecca. He hadn't heard a word of complaint from her, but that didn't mean she hadn't felt cheated about missing some of the activities. Although he had dated several young women his first year at Northwestern, Christopher hadn't asked anyone out since he'd returned either. When his buddies got together they automatically included Rebecca in the mix. Chris and Bex was the expected combination. That was okay with him, he didn't really feel like being with another girl right now anyway.

Cameron brought Christopher's focus back to the here and now by asking him to take the shrinker sock off his leg. With familiar ease Christopher rolled the white cotton and elastic closed tube from his left leg and handed it to Rebecca. Then Cameron handed him a flesh-toned squishy 'sock' with a metal peg in the closed end and told him to roll it on like he does the elastic shrinker socks. As Christopher rolled it onto and up his residual limb, Cameron explained that it was a silicone liner that would both protect his limb from the socket of the prosthesis and be part of the interface between his body and the mechanical leg. It took a few attempts to get the pin positioned correctly and Christopher became increasingly frustrated each time Cameron told him to take the liner off and try again. Christopher may have been getting frustrated, but Cameron was very patient and in no way attempted to rush Christopher.

Once the silicone liner was correctly positioned, Cameron handed the prosthetic leg that had been leaning against the workbench to Christopher and coached him on how to put it on and lock the pin into the cam lock in the bottom of the socket. The sensation of something hard and unyielding around his residual limb, although far from painful, caught Christopher a bit off-guard and he made a face. Cameron looked up just in time to see the waning moments of Christopher's expression.

"You shouldn't have pain," Cameron remarked.

"It's not really uncomfortable. Just a different sensation than I'm used to," Christopher said quickly. "I guess I'll get used to it pretty quickly." The last was as much a question as a statement.

"Yeah, everyone is different, but eventually you might even begin to feel naked without your prosthesis on," Cameron said and winked subtly at Christopher.

For the next few minutes Cameron talked with Christopher to make sure that there were no points of actual pain in the resting fit of the socket. Then Cameron explained that when Christopher stood up he might experience some phantom limb sensation but asked that he try to work through that and tell him where there was actual pain or pinching coming from his limb's position in the socket.

A few minutes later, with hands firmly grasping each side of the parallel bars, Christopher hoisted himself up to standing. At first he kept most of his weight on his right leg, but, at Cameron's gentle urging, quickly shifted his weight so that it was spread equally between his right and left sides. The sensation in his left leg was not uncomfortable, but definitely felt odd. Subtly he shifted more of his weight to the left side. Then, using the hand rails on the parallel bars for balance, took a tentative step with his right foot; then another with the left. His attention was on moving forward, but he wasn't so focused on himself that he didn't catch sight of Rebecca in the wall-sized mirror at the end of the bars. She was beaming and her eyes were glistening; after wiping her cheeks with her finger tips, she quietly slipped from the room but returned a few moments later dabbing at her eyes with a tissue from the box in the waiting area out front.

Finally Christopher was able to tell Cameron that he didn't like the way the socket felt in certain areas and that after a bit other areas didn't feel good. Cameron marked those areas with different colored markers on the clear plastic test socket and said he'd make some adjustments. He set an appointment for Christopher to come back at the same time the next week. He also suggested that Christopher make appointments with the physical therapist that his PT in Virginia had recommended.

As Christopher and Rebecca were setting into the seats of Christopher's car, his phone rang with the tone he'd assigned to his Aunt Jenna. He answered and spoke briefly to his aunt; when he ended the call he turned to Rebecca and told her that their presence was commanded at the dinner table in a little over an hour. Christopher wasn't really surprised by the directive; he had been leaving the house early in the mornings and getting back in well after dinner time, even on the weekends, for the last two weeks. It wasn't as if he was deliberately avoiding his surrogate parents, but he had papers, projects, study groups and Rebecca to keep him busy and away from the house. Before he started the car to leave the parking lot of the medical office complex, Christopher made a few quick calls to the guys and girls in his advanced calculus study group to let them know that he would not be available that evening and they'd have to muddle through the assignment without him. Rebecca made a similar call to her roommate.

Even though the roads were clogged with 5 o'clock traffic, Christopher made decent time from Buffalo Grove to Glencoe. Neither young person said a thing on the drive, but Rebecca did place her hand on Christopher's hand when it rested on the gearshift in the console several times. Almost as soon as Christopher had put the car in park and turned off the ignition, his Aunt Jenna came out onto the back porch. There was no mistaking the look of disappointment that settled over her as she watched her nephew sling his book bag over his shoulder and crutch toward the house. And when Rebecca exited the car and came toward the house carrying only her purse, the disappointed look changed to one of sadness.

As the young couple climbed the back stairs Jenna addressed Christopher, "I thought you were getting your leg today?"

"No, Aunt Jenna. That was a misunderstanding. This was just a test fitting to make sure it's right when they do make the final one. I've got to go back next week for another fitting."

Rebecca held the screen door open for Christopher and his aunt, and then entered behind them as the door swung closed behind her. "Pot roast?" she asked as she sniffed the air.

"Yes," Jenna said as she entered into the breakfast room and sat down. "It's one of Chris's favorites. Thought he might enjoy something comforting this evening."

"Thanks Aunt Jenna. It is comforting, just not in the way you'd expected," Christopher said as he slipped into the seat he usually occupied at the dinner table after leaving his book bag on the bottom step of the stairs leading to the upper floors.

As Christopher settled onto the seat and stowed his crutches under the table, Rebecca began, "Chris aren't you supposed to wear …"

"I know what you're gonna say Bex. Don't okay. Just don't." Christopher held his hands up, palms toward Rebecca, and made a slight pushing motion with them. "I don't need a third mother right now. I know you mean well, but back off for a little bit."

"Christopher, that is no way to speak to a lady," Austin scolded as he came in from the family room with a highball glass in his hand.

"It's okay, Mr. Anderson," Rebecca quickly defended. "Chris has been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster these last few hours." Rebecca crossed to stand beside Christopher and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He doesn't usually speak to me in that tone. He's kinda right, though. He's an adult, well almost, and doesn't need me telling him what to do." She squeezed his shoulder lightly.

Austin cast a last reproachful look at his nephew, and then turned toward his wife. "Do I have time to finish my Scotch, before I need to help you serve dinner?"

"Sit down and finish your drink, Mr. Anderson. I'll help serve dinner when it's ready."

"Thank you, Bex, but please be seated. The bread's not ready to come out of the oven yet. Now I want to hear about this rollercoaster that Chris has been on."

For the next fifteen minutes Christopher reluctantly told his aunt and uncle about his appointment with the prosthetist. Even though he was a bit annoyed with Rebecca for bringing the subject of his emotions up, he didn't snipe at her anymore that evening. At her subtle encouragement he even called his father to let him and his mother know what was going on. He didn't tell his father and mother much more than he'd had his first fitting of his new leg. It's not that he didn't want them to know what was happening in that part of his life; he just didn't know what was going to be happening or how long it would take before he was walking freely. He didn't want to set them up for a disappointment.

Over the next few weeks, Christopher picked up his test prosthesis; wore it at the prescribed times during gait training with the physical therapist; met again with Cameron – at his physical therapist's insistence – to fine tune the fit and function once more. Rebecca went to every one of his fittings and therapy appointments. She shared his minor triumphs as he mastered the techniques that allowed him to have a gait on level ground that made it hard to tell that he wore a mechanical leg; she offered moral support when he became frustrated with the length of time it took him to master other activities. Stairs – he struggled with stairs for a few days. He was stuck in one foot mode – where he'd rise or descend the stairway leading with his right leg and then bringing his left alongside his right rather than smoothly taking his left to the next step. It was a mental thing he knew, but it took him a few days to work through that. A few more days of training and he was almost bounding up the stairs as if nothing had ever happened.

Then on Thursday of the first week of November – exactly four weeks before Thanksgiving – he and Rebecca made one last journey to Buffalo Grove and picked up his final prosthesis. It was an overcast raw day in northern Illinois so Christopher wore jeans to the final appointment rather than the shorts he usually wore. After entering the office, he slipped into the bathroom and changed out of his jeans into the shorts he usually wore to his fittings or therapy sessions. In his backpack this time was the mate to the new pair of Chucks that he'd bought recently, rather than his usual beat up sneaker he had been wearing. Rebecca carried the cane that the PT had suggested he use for a few weeks.

They were a bit early and Cameron was running a bit late, so Rebecca and Christopher leafed through some of the magazines on the side tables. Finally Cameron ushered the previous client from the fitting room, and motioned for Christopher to enter. For a moment Christopher almost asked Rebecca to stay behind in the waiting area. Almost. One look at the expectant expression on her face and he knew that he could not deny her this moment. She had been with him at every other step along this journey and deserved to be with him for this one. He wasn't that selfish.

After he'd plopped down on the now familiar stool at the near end of the parallel bars, Christopher glanced around the room. Rebecca had once again settled onto the metal folding chair by the door and held the cane and his jeans on her lap. Cameron was standing at the workbench with his hand on a cloth covering what Christopher could only guess was his final prosthesis.

"Are you ready for this?" Cameron asked and smiled a bit mischievously. "I don't usually go about presenting one of my finished projects this way, but you and your girlfriend seem the sort that would appreciate a bit of flair," Cameron said, addressing Christopher.

"Oh, we're not boyfriend girlfriend," Rebecca piped up quickly. "Chris has been my best friend since junior high. I'm here for moral support."

For a reason that Christopher didn't quite understand, Rebecca's quick answer caused his heart to sink just a little bit. He shook the feeling off and returned his attention to Cameron.

"Oh? You really had me fooled," Cameron said quietly. "Anyway, Chris, here's my latest work of art," he said whipping the sheet off the item on the workbench.

"Oh!" Rebecca exclaimed from her perch by the door.

A pleased grin briefly visited Christopher's features then dissolved into a serious expression as he studied the item that Cameron was offering him. He wouldn't exactly call the mechanical leg handed to him pretty, but, in his eyes, it was far from ugly. Unlike the test leg, this one had a flesh-toned carbon fiber socket, matte finished steel shaft and the silicone covering for the carbon-fiber foot matched his own flesh fairly closely. After taking the prosthesis from Cameron, Christopher reached into the backpack sitting on the floor to his right and retrieved the mate to the sock he wore on his right foot and slipped it on the prosthetic foot. Then he extracted the black-and-white high-topped sneaker and tied it onto the foot, too.

"Gah," Christopher hissed in frustration. "Maybe this wasn't the best choice of shoes." He looked up at Cameron. "Is the higher top going to interfere with the articulation of the ankle when I walk?"

"No," Cameron reassured. "Just don't tuck the laces inside the shoe and it will be just fine."

"Okay," Christopher said as he reached back into the backpack and withdrew the silicone liner. Once he'd rolled the liner onto his residual limb, Christopher slipped the prosthesis on and deftly locked the pin into the cam on the bottom of the socket.

"You seem to have gotten the hang of that pretty quickly," Cameron remarked and offered up a pleased smile in Christopher's direction. "How does it feel?"

"Not quite as snug as the test socket. Think I might need a sock. Glad I brought a couple."

For the next few minutes Christopher and Cameron tried various combinations and plies of socks over the silicone liner until Christopher felt comfortable.

"Bex, go stand at the other end of the bars," Christopher commanded softly a few minutes later.

Cameron moved himself and his rolling stool out of the way.

"Okay," Rebecca said as she stood and placed Christopher's jeans on the seat of the chair. "But I don't understand why you want me to do that."

"Because I want you to," Christopher replied. He waited until Rebecca was in position before he stood up and quickly walked, without hands on the handrails of the parallel bars, to where Rebecca stood. "Because I think you deserved a front row seat to see me do that," Christopher whispered as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I had a good view from where I was," Rebecca teased as she returned the hug. "I'm so happy for you," she whispered before she broke from the embrace.

"Cam, can I slip out of these shorts and into my jeans in here?"

"Sure you're the last client of the day, so go ahead while I go over a few things with you."

Twenty minutes later Christopher and Rebecca were on their way out of the prosthetics shop for the last time. When they got back to Austin and Jenna's house, Christopher nonchalantly strolled into the family room where his aunt and uncle were relaxing with a glass of wine before dinner.

Both Austin and Jenna looked wide-eyed at their nephew and exchanged pleased glances. "This calls for a celebration," Austin announced and drained the last of his red wine. "Have you talked to your mom and dad yet?"

"No, and I'm not going to tell them about this just yet. Bex and I are flying home for Thanksgiving and I want to surprise them."

"That might be kind of hard to do, Chris," Jenna interjected. "They know that you've been in for the initial fittings …"

"But they don't know how long that process takes," Christopher countered. "I've hinted at multiple fittings and how long it can be to get the adjustments made. I really want them to be surprised when I walk off the plane. Can you try to humor me in this?" he pleaded.

"I'm not going to outright lie to my brother, Chris, but I'll do what I can to keep the fact that you are walking unaided from your parents."

Twenty days later …

Christopher and Rebecca walked hand-in-hand across the baggage claim area of Regan National searching the waiting crowd for a familiar mop of salt-and-pepper hair. Rebecca spotted Auggie first and nudged Christopher and pointed at his father. The pair changed the direction of their travel and headed toward Auggie. As they got closer the crowd in front of them parted enough that Annie, obviously scanning the arrivals board, came into their view. Christopher stopped and observed his parents for a few moments. Annie must have gotten the information she was looking for on the Arrivals board and turned to start toward where Christopher and Rebecca were standing. There were still several hundred feet and a few travelers between the pairs.

As he walked toward his parents, Christopher saw his mother speak to his father and relieved smiles come to both of them. Then his mother's eyes grew wide with surprise as Christopher and Rebecca approached closer. Annie spoke once more to Auggie and his smile broadened. Just before Christopher reached where his parents stood, Annie wiped her cheeks with the pads of her fingertips; and even Auggie's eyes began to glisten with moisture.

Wordlessly Annie embraced her son warmly. After a few tender moments, Annie broke the hug so that her son could greet his father.

"Dad," Christopher said softly to cue his father to his whereabouts.

Auggie opened his arms a bit and Christopher moved into his father's embrace. "Why didn't you tell us," Auggie said in a voice thick with emotion.

"Because I wanted to surprise you guys," Christopher replied evenly trying to keep the emotion from his own voice.

"Well," Annie said smiling, "Mission accomplished," and then she added, "How long have you had your leg?"

"Not long," Christopher answered noncommittally as he stepped out of his father's hug.

"Christopher," Auggie said sharply.

Christopher sighed and responded, "Not quite three weeks for the permanent one, I began walking with a prototype a few weeks before that."

"It was so wonderful to see you walking toward us," Annie remarked. "So wonderful."

Behind them the baggage carousel clattered to life. Rebecca and Christopher collected their bags and followed Annie out to the parking structure. For the first time in almost a year Auggie took his son's arm for sighted guide. Christopher understood the nuance of his father's not very subtle switch from his mother to him as sighted guide. His father wanted to know how well he was walking on the new leg. Christopher handed the cane he had been using to Rebecca who at first gave him a slightly reproachful look that quickly softened into a look of understanding. Starting out at a slightly slower, measured pace inside the crowded terminal, Christopher strode out boldly and confidently once he'd cleared the automatic doors from the building; his father on his right arm Christopher pulled his roller bag with his left. Ahead of Christopher and Auggie, Annie and Rebecca chatted happily away as they walked to where Annie had parked the car.

"Where's Corry?" Christopher asked when his father paused in his running commentary on what had happened in the area since Christopher had been gone back to school. "She upset at me for something?"

"I don't think so," Auggie responded thoughtfully. "She had a mandatory band practice. It was be at practice or not be able to play in the concert on Saturday. Concert is part of her grade."

"Oh, okay. As long as she's not mad."

Auggie changed the subject by asking Christopher about how he was doing in his studies. All the way from the airport the conversation in the car was lively and skillfully avoided any reference to Christopher's transformation. When they pulled in to the house in McLean, Christopher noted a familiar car parked on the street in front of the house. Rebecca's sister and his best guy friend were there. A self-satisfied grin tugged at the corners of Christopher's mouth. Once his mother had parked the car, Christopher had to force himself to go to the back of the car and retrieve his suitcase and backpack. He wanted nothing more than to run into the house and show off. He handed Rebecca her tote bag and suitcase and then closed the hatch. Rebecca pulled her suitcase to the cobblestone path at the base of the stairs to the back porch, and then came back to take Christopher's to the back door. Rebecca also took Christopher's backpack by one strap and slung it over her shoulder. Annie slowly looked from Rebecca to Christopher and then back to Rebecca who now held the index finger of her right had to her pursed lips. Annie caught hold of Auggie's arm as he began up the stairs behind Rebecca and whispered to him. Auggie slowly shook his head with an amused smile plastered across his face.

Christopher hung back a few moments and allowed Rebecca and his parents to enter the house first. From inside he heard Harrison and Crystal ask where he was and Rebecca state that he was coming behind her. Understanding but disappointed 'ohs' could be heard.

Pushing the backdoor open a bit farther, Christopher entered the house. "Hi, guys," he said casually. "What's been happening?"

Harrison began to speak as he turned toward the sound of Christopher's voice. He stopped in mid-syllable and nudged Crystal sitting on a barstool beside him sipping on a glass of iced tea. Corrine Anderson looked up from where she was chopping carrots to put in the slow-cooker to finish off the pot roast; her eyes grew wide with surprise. Laying the knife on the island counter Corrine ran around the island toward her brother squealing in delight. Just before she reached her brother she slowed her headlong rush and gingerly embraced him.

"Oh, Chris," Corrine gushed. "How long?

Behind the tender reunion of the siblings, his friends looked on with pleased smiles. Crystal Larsen wiped tears from her cheeks.

"A few weeks," Christopher responded and received a hard slug to his shoulder from his sister.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Corrine asked reproachfully. Turning to her parents, "Mom, Dad, did you know?"

"No," Annie began, "It was a complete surprise to see him come walking across the concourse toward us. I had much the same reaction as you, only I didn't slug him. I wanted to, but restrained myself."

After giving Christopher another quick hug, Corrine returned to finishing the vegetables for the dinner. First Crystal and then Harrison slid off their stools and greeted their friend; their emotion, especially Crystal's, was barely contained.

"You don't know how good it is to see you on two legs," Harrison whispered as he gave his best friend a man hug.

"You don't know how good it is to BE on two legs again," Christopher whispered back.

After a few minutes of greetings, curious questions, and plans to get-together before the long weekend ended, Crystal, Rebecca, and Harrison had to leave to get the young women to their parent's home for early holiday activities.

Later that evening, as he was preparing for bed, Christopher asked his father to come into his room. "Dad, you've asked very little about my new leg. Would you like to see it?"

"Yeah, I would," Auggie responded gently. "Didn't want to pry too much. I know this can be a very personal thing. It's not like you've just gotten a new pair of shoes."

"I'm not that self-conscious about it. I wore jeans today because it's cold. If it was warm and others would be wearing shorts, so would I."

A contented smile briefly replaced Auggie's serious expression.

"Sit on the floor at my feet, Dad," Christopher gently instructed. Auggie complied. "I know why you used me as sighted guide earlier. I caught your pleased smile when you saw that my gait was fairly normal. That took a bit of adjustment and a lot of practice to achieve; it's almost second nature now. I still have to concentrate in some situations and sometimes use a cane, but I'm getting along pretty well. And I'll get better. I haven't gotten there yet, but one day I'll even run again."

"Run?"

"Yeah. Run. I might not win a 100-yard dash anytime soon, but I couldn't do that before. I will be able to run with Bex, or Harrison; play a bit of pick-up baseball, football and even basketball if I want."

Auggie picked his hands up from his lap and then let them drop back down.

Christopher shifted his stance a bit and then said, "Go ahead, Dad. Just reach out and touch it. You're not going to hurt me."

For the next few minutes Christopher told his father what the various components to his prosthesis were and watched his father's expression change from curiosity to thoughtfulness as he put everything together in his head, and finally to comprehension.

"It doesn't look at all like your real leg at all then," Auggie said at last.

"No. It doesn't. I could have had one made that looked like my other leg, right down to hair and toe nails, but it would not have had the function of this one. I'm not that vain, Dad. I chose to have a leg that would allow me to function pretty much like I did before rather than one that cosmetically looked real," Christopher patiently explained as he sat on the edge of his bed. He then described the process of taking the leg off, and then let his father examine the silicone liner. He grinned with amusement at his father's expression of surprise when his fingers encountered the peg in the bottom of the silicone liner. Christopher explained what it was as he rolled the liner from his leg and placed it in his father's hands.

After running his sensitive fingers over the liner Auggie held it out for Christopher to take and got very still and quiet.

As he took flesh-toned item from his father, Christopher asked, "What's wrong, Dad?"

"It's just all so real now. Ever since May this part of my life has seemed like just one crazy bad dream. And now I know, finally understand that my son did lose his leg and now has a prosthesis. Until a few minutes ago I could pretend it wasn't real. Now seeing the prosthesis … I can't pretend anymore."

Christopher looked at the expression of profound sadness that had come over his father. He reached out and laid his hand on his father's shoulder. "It's okay, Dad. I'm okay. I'm going to stay okay. I'm moving on. I'm ready to take the next step in my life."


	36. The Honeymoon  Part 1

**The title tells it all. This is the first of two (or possibly more?) chapters chronicaling Annie and Auggie's honeymoon. The second chapter is almost done and will be posted as soon as Mandy58 has a chance to look it over. It has the scene that I know y'all want that is lacking in this one. *giggle***

**Mandy58 has deemed it good.**

**I still don't own the original Covert Affairs. I do, however, now own another *hot* item signed by Auggie's alter ego Christopher Gorham - a 'Hot in Cleveland' metal water bottle signed by the cast of 'Hot in Cleveland' and their guest star Chris Gorham. The episode will air sometime in mid-March according to my sources. [Some one asked, jealously I think, how I come by all these autographed Chris Gorham items. I follow Chris on Twitter (and he follows me) and when he announces that he's signed something for a charity auction, I go and place a bid and the maximum I'm willing to donate to get it. I guess I have more resources than most of Chris's fans. I'm usually successful in my bids, usually at an amout well below my limit. What can I say, I'm older and have had a financially successful life. I'm not going to apologize for that either.]**

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><p>Most of the last thirty-six hours were but a blur for Anne Catherine Walker. Take that back, she was no longer a Walker, she was now an Anderson: Anne Catherine Walker-Anderson, hereafter to be known simply as Annie Anderson. Yesterday afternoon she'd married her best friend, August David Anderson, better known as Auggie.<p>

Annie had been fascinated for years by the suave, debonair, confident man that had shown her around their workplace that first day. They had bonded almost instantly over a similar fondness for the jazz artist Charles Mingus. Then over the ensuing years, as he'd walked, and talked, her through some trying times in her employment – and she in his – friendship had blossomed into something more. Much more. Both had dated other people for the first few years, sometimes seriously, but the easy way they had with each other kept bringing them back to the other. Then one day, in front of his parents and one of his brothers, he'd asked her to marry him. To say that she'd been surprised would have been an understatement. She was, to put it mildly, shocked. They had never discussed the possibility of even moving in together before he'd popped that question. Saying no had never crossed her mind.

And now here she sat next to the man she loved more than life itself on her way to some mysterious tropical location. Not totally mysterious. Annie knew she was on her way to San Juan, Puerto Rico; but where they were heading from there she did not know. All Auggie had told her was to pack for somewhere tropical. So, she had. Early May in the Caribbean was bound to be warm, bordering on hot, so her suitcase was full of sundresses, shorts and tank tops, and several bikinis. The indisputable fact that her new husband could not appreciate the sight of her in the bikinis was not lost on her. Her husband had never seen her in the traditional meaning of the word, for, you see, he was blind. Totally. He had not always been so, but she had never known him as anything but the smart, witty, confident blind man sitting beside her who gently held her hand.

"Mrs. Anderson, you're staring at me," Auggie stated with conviction from behind closed eyes and an amused expression.

"Am not, Mr. Anderson," Annie retorted playfully.

"Are too."

"Nu-huh. I just now turned to look at you. I've been looking out the window and trying to make the things that happened the last few days fall into place. They're all in a jumble in my mind."

"Getting things straight in that pretty head of yours?"

"Starting to. The wedding itself is clear. The reception seems like a dream; like I can't quite believe some of the things that seemed to happen." Annie shifted a bit in her first class seat so that she more fully faced her husband of less than twenty-four hours. "Did you really toast the fact that yesterday was the fifth anniversary of the explosion that took your sight?"

"I vaguely recall doing just that. I didn't know whether to be happy that it only took five years to go from the worst day of my life to one of the best; or pissed because it took me so long to realize what I had in you all the time since you first came to work with me."

"I don't know either. All that should matter is that we found each other and are together forever now."

Auggie rolled the ring on the third finger of Annie's left hand around for a moment then lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. A contented look settled over him for a brief moment and then he whispered, "I still have the feeling that I'm being stared at."

Annie glanced around the first class cabin. Her eyes met those of one of the female flight attendants – a statuesque auburn haired beauty – and the other woman quickly looked away. "One of the flight attendants has been coyly watching you. I can't say as I blame her. You are the most handsome man in the cabin right now. But remember you are a married man now."

"How can I forget?" Auggie asked as he raised his left hand from where it was resting on his lap and wiggled his ring finger. "This is so new that it's hard not to notice it."

"At least it's on your finger and not through your nose like they sometimes do with bulls," Annie said and poked Auggie I the side. As she did that, Annie could not help but notice the red-headed flight attendant sigh and turn her gaze away from Auggie. She thought for a minute then leaned over and whispered to her husband, "That flight attendant that had been checking you out, just sighed and turned away when you displayed your wedding ring."

"Yeah. Kinda figured she might. That's part of why I did it," Auggie whispered back.

"You knew?"

"Knew – no. Strongly suspected – yes. I've flown a lot. I know the ways of some flight attendants and nice-looking passengers. Remember Franka?"

"You would bring that up," Annie said as she shifted her body to put some distance between her and her husband. The move was not lost on Auggie.

"Annie. Honey. I'm sorry. But if I hadn't connected with her that time we never would have caught Khanni."

"And you thought you were going on a suicide mission when you got on that plane. As good as the outcome was, I still shudder to think what could have happened to you."

"Nothing happened except we got a terrorist. And that's all in the past now; far in the past. We are going forward now; into a new life together. That's what matters now." Palm up, he extended his right hand slightly.

After a moment's hesitance, Annie put her left hand into her husband's and he closed his larger hand around her smaller one. They sat like that the rest of the way into San Juan.

Once on the ground in Puerto Rico, Auggie told Annie to be on the lookout for someone with a sign with their last name on it. Fifteen minutes after they'd retrieved their checked bags and were beginning to wonder if they'd been forgotten, a harried, youngish looking man rushed up to them. In English but with a definite French accent he asked, "Mr. and Mrs. Anderson?" And then he continued when Auggie nodded in the affirmative, "my sincere apologies for not being here earlier to greet you. A bit of weather delayed my departure. All is well now and we should be at the hotel in a couple of leisurely hours. I am Pierre, by the way."

"All's well, Pierre," Auggie began in a conciliatory tone. "You are here now, that's the important thing. Has the weather cleared or will we have a rough crossing?"

"Yes, weather has cleared. Just a pop-up thunderstorm," Pierre replied. "We get them this time of afternoon sometimes. Quick to come, quicker to leave."

Pierre gathered up Annie's bags, "Follow me and I'll get you to the marina and then to the island in time for your diner reservation."

A bit under half-an-hour later Annie and Auggie were onboard the thirty-five foot cabin cruiser on their way to the Caribbean island of Saint Barthélemy better known as St. Barts. During the seventy-five minute journey from one marina to the other, Annie snuggled into Auggie's side as they relaxed on the leather sofa in the front of the cabin and tried to describe the scenery – or more the lack thereof – to him as the boat bounced across the light chop. About an hour into the journey, and before Annie said anything, Auggie remarked, "We must be close to land now. The gulls are more numerous as well as being a bit more raucous and the waves are breaking onto land."

"Right you are, Mr. Anderson," Pierre remarked from the captain's chair on the raised platform in the very front of the cabin. "We're about a mile offshore. We'll be entering the harbor shortly and mooring up within twenty minutes. There'll be a car waiting to take you to the hotel when we dock. As I understand, this car and driver will be at your disposal while you are here; as will I."

"That's nice to know," Auggie commented. "I was wondering what else we could do when we got bored with each other and honeymoon activities." A playful grin plied the corners of his mouth as he prepared to receive the punch to his shoulder the comment was bound to elicit from his new wife.

"Auggie!" Annie exclaimed. "I can't believe you just said that." Annie shifted away from his side and sat up straight, but she didn't slap or lightly punch his arm or shoulder.

Grinning broadly Auggie drew her back into his side. "What can I say Mrs. Anderson, but the truth. There are other things to be done around here, I am sure of that. Perhaps a bit of scuba diving one day?"

Once again Annie pulled away from Auggie in alarm. "No! Absolutely not," she exclaimed. "I know you don't let your lack of sight get in the way of doing what you want, but I have to draw the line on that. No. We are not going scuba diving. And that's final!" Annie stated firmly and crossed her arms across her chest.

"I may have been stationed in the middle of the desert that last tour, but I do know how to dive. And I know that you do, too, Mrs. Anderson," Auggie stated matter-of-factly. The faintest hint of a smile threatened to dissolve the serious face that he wore. "It might have been awhile …"

"That may very well be, Mr. Anderson," Annie began in a serious tone, "but I cannot fathom how a blind man can scuba dive safely. Or why he would want to. I don't want to be a widow before my marriage has even begun. No, Auggie, no." He tone softened significantly as she spoke and the last was spoken tenderly – almost apologetically – as she softly touched his arm.

"Very well, then. Scuba diving is off the schedule, but that still leaves time for hang gliding or parasailing," Auggie said brightly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a sly grin.

"August Anderson you are not serious. Are you?" Annie drew back another fraction of an inch in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Not completely serious," Auggie reluctantly admitted. "I was just teasing a bit. Testing to see how far you might let me go."

The boat's speed slowed as it entered the main port's harbor.

"Auggie, I am not completely opposed to doing those things with you, I just need more than a few hours notice to work out the logistics in my head. That you want to do these things is wonderful, I just don't know if they are wise in this locale."

"And I do not know if they are even available here," Auggie admitted. "Just wanted to see what you would say. I know now. You have some reservations about the wisdom of a blind man perusing some activities without some preparation first. And I guess that is a good thing."

"Auggie, where are we? I mean what island are we going to?" Annie asked suddenly. Abruptly changing the subject.

"This is Saint Barthélemy or more commonly known simply as Saint Barts," Pierre said from the captain's chair. "Why are you alarmed Mrs. Anderson?"

"Oh, my, Auggie, we don't belong here," Annie said in awe of her surroundings.

"What's wrong? I was assured that this island was perfectly safe. The pirates were dispatched centuries ago," Auggie said calmly.

"It's not that, Auggie. The boats in this marina are more than just boats; they are yachts – luxury yachts."

"Yeah. Saint Barts is the playground of the rich and famous," Auggie said self-consciously, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"We are not rich and we are definitely not famous. What have you done, August?" Annie asked accusingly.

"What I did was leave the honeymoon arrangements to my mother. This is her doings not mine. We wouldn't let her give us a big wedding, so she gave us this for a honeymoon. I didn't learn any details until she told me where we were going last night when she handed me the plane tickets and gave me the flight number and time; even then all she told me was we were flying into San Juan, and would be met by someone who would take us to our final destination. I knew we were in trouble when we were seated in first class. I didn't know we were coming to St. Barts until Pierre told us just a few minutes ago. All I told Mom was that I wanted to go somewhere tropical and how much I'd set aside. I was thinking Hawaii or maybe Atlantis, but no – here we are in St. Barts."

Pierre throttled the boat down and eased into its mooring spot on the dock. As the boat was being secured, two young men jumped on board and took off Annie's and Auggie's luggage. The pair followed their bags off the dock to the waiting car. A scant half-hour later the newlyweds were entering their suite in the Carl Gustaf Hotel.

"After you, my love," Auggie cooed as he pushed the door open. "Where are our bags?" He whispered quickly before Annie moved off into the room.

"Oh, my Auggie," Annie softly exclaimed.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's pretty horrible. I don't see our bags – they're not out in the middle of the room for you to trip over," Annie replied quietly. After they'd stepped inside the room and the door closed behind them, Annie described the basic layout of the room to Auggie.

They freshened up a bit and Annie changed from her traveling clothes into one of the sundresses she'd packed. With a good bit of self-consciousness, Annie led Auggie to the hotel's onsite restaurant Victoria's for their dinner reservation. Well over an hour later the newlyweds almost staggered back to their room somewhat tipsy from the copious amount of wine they'd washed the delicious meal down with.

"What direction does our room face?" Auggie asked as they entered the main room of the suite.

"West mainly," Annie replied. "The hotel in on a ridge and our terrace faces pretty close to due West and overlooks the city and the harbor. Why?"

"It's about sunset isn't it?"

"Yeah, the sun is beginning to set."

"Let's go sit on the terrace and watch the sunset," Auggie said in a seductive tone. "We are fairly secluded here are we not?"

"Yes, it's quite private here," Annie replied taking Auggie's hand and leading him out onto the granite paved terrace. The pair settled onto the wicker settee. Auggie leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him and Annie kicked off her sandals and tucked her legs up under her as she snuggled into her husband's side. For the next half-hour Annie described the view at her feet – the white buildings with the red tile roofs surrounding the horseshoe shaped harbor full of smaller boats while the larger ones anchored just beyond the mouth of the harbor; and the brilliant reds, yellows and oranges of the sunset. Once the last remnant of the sun sank below the horizon, Auggie opened his eyes and sighed contentedly.

"Thank you, my love," he crooned to her. "I now have a feel for this place. And I'm completely relaxed for the first time in quite a few days. Maybe I won't be too harsh on Mom when we get back home. I know this is costing her a small fortune. She must really like you. And now," he said as he shifted Annie's weight so he could stand up, "I'm heading in to bed. It might be a bit early, but I'm so ready to … sleep."

"And I'm so ready to join you," Annie replied stretching out her legs and standing up also. She brushed her hand against her husband's and led him to the foot of the bed. "You got it from here?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, I think so" Auggie whispered back a bit self-consciously. "I'll have it all down by this time tomorrow."

"I know," Annie responded turning around and patting him tenderly on the chest. "Let me know if you need to find anything," she added.

Within a few minutes both were cuddled in the middle of the king-sized bed. A few minutes later Auggie was asleep with Annie cradled in his strong arms. Annie, contentedly secure in her husband's arms, listened to his soft breaths that gently moved the hair on the back of her head. Despite her best efforts, her mind wandered back to other nights in a tropical paradise. This, she soon decided, was far more satisfying than that time and August Anderson was a far better man than Ben Mercer could ever hope to be. She had no regrets from her time with him, just as she was sure that Auggie had no regrets for the time he'd spent with Parker. It had taken them a while to find each other, but now that they had she knew that they'd have a long and wonderful life together. Soon she joined her husband in blissful slumber.

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><p><strong>I've got them to their destination. The next chapter will chronicle some of their honeymoon activities. We'll go at least one more chapter. Let me know if you'd like a bit more and I *might* oblige. I do have another 'chapter' on another slice of Anderson life nearly ready to go, too. Just some expansion of one section of it and a bit of a wrap-up. <strong>


	37. The Honeymoon Part 2

**Here's the next installemnt of Annie and Auggie's Honeymoon. There will be at least one more part. I'm having a bit of fun writing this.**

**Mandy58 has once again made time to look it over and catch a few things. Many thanks to her.**

**Here's where I have to remind everyone that I really have no financial interest in Covert Affairs. I write these little stories for my and, hopefully, your amusement. As much as I wish that Matt Corman or Chris Ord would read one of my stories and use something in it as a plot point in the reel Covert Affairs, I know that's not about to happen.**

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><p>Annie woke to the shrill cries of seagulls and the smell of salt water. She lay in the tangle of sheets with her eyes closed for a few minutes taking in the sounds and smells around her. It didn't take her but a few moments to remember where she was. Slowly she opened her eyes to the light pouring in from the terrace through the open French doors. It didn't take her long to realize that she was alone in the bed and she quickly scanned the room for the location of Auggie. He wasn't in the luxurious room anywhere, but the door into the spa-like bath was open. After untangling her legs from the sheet, Annie slipped into the bath for a few minutes. When she was through with her basic morning necessities, Annie slipped into her satin robe and padded onto the terrace. Once she exited the room she saw him. He was sitting on the settee where they'd cuddled the evening before. His back was to her and he was clad only in his sleep pants. He was hunched over, forearms on his thighs, with his phone in his hands and earbuds in his ears. Lost in thought he didn't hear her approach and startled slightly when she began to trace the outline of the tattoo on his back.<p>

"Ah, good morning sleepy head," Auggie crooned as he removed the earbuds from his ears. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to sleep all day."

Coming around to the front of the small piece of furniture, Annie almost knocked over the cup of coffee on the floor between her husband's feet. After giving him a less than chaste kiss, Annie asked, "Where did you get coffee this morning? Have you been out already?"

"Eh, no. I might be able to get this room down pat in a few hours, but the hotel in general I might not even get that down by the time we leave. There's this thing called room service. You just pick up the phone, tell the person on the other end what you want and it magically appears. I wanted coffee. I got coffee."

"Sorry, I'm just so used to being with you in familiar places. I forget sometimes that it takes time and concentration for you to get comfortable in unfamiliar places. And you can't just make a friend here like you might other places. Why didn't you wake me?"

"It's okay, darlin'. I got the coffee I wanted so it's all good. And you were sleeping so peacefully …"

"We are a partnership, Auggie. We help each other. You should have woken me," Annie replied sternly as she settled onto the seat beside her husband.

"I thought you needed sleep more than I needed coffee. If it had been something more important I would have woken you. Now drop it."

"Dropped," Annie said. "What's with the phone this morning?"

"Checking voice mail and E-mail just to have something to do. Glad I did. There's an E-mail from Mom. She's set us up with several … romantic … adventures – a sunset into moonlight cruise courtesy of Pierre and several treatments in the spa here. All we have to do is decide when. She's suggested several other things we might like to do. Or not. How do you feel about fishing? Maybe not so romantic, but it's something I wanted to do someday."

"Then we will get Pierre to take us out fishing. Spa treatments sound divine. I'll fish with you if you'll spa with me?"

"Of course. I will draw the line at getting polish on my nails though." A broad grin punctuated his final statement. "Now, there is something that I'd like to start your day off with."

"And what might that be?" Annie asked with mild curiosity.

"Come back to bed with me?" Auggie asked hopefully.

"Of course," Annie cooed seductively as she rose from her seat and started back inside. She was slightly surprised when Auggie took her arm, but didn't say anything. Once inside she closed the terrace door, but didn't bother to close the curtains. Just shy of the bed she stopped, turned to wrap her arms around her husband's waist and nuzzled his well-muscled chest playfully nipping at his skin.

Auggie responded by sliding his hands up her arms and began to slip the soft robe from her shoulders. Annie loosened her grasp on Auggie and let the garment slip to the floor. Auggie trailed his hands back up Annie's arms to her shoulders, her neck and then to the gently grasp the sides of her face. Tilting her head with light pressure on her cheeks with his thumbs, Auggie hungrily possessed her mouth with passionate kisses. For a few moments their tongues danced with mutual desire.

"Bed?" Auggie whispered desperately.

"Foot to your right," Annie whispered back between open-mouthed kisses.

Sliding his leg to the right until it rested against the side of the bed, Auggie found and grasped the hem of Annie's nightshirt and then with one quick motion pulled the garment up and over his wife's head. He dropped it on the floor uncannily close to the robe.

Annie hooked her thumbs in the waistband of Auggie's sleep pants, and he did the same with her panties. There was nothing slow or seductive about the rapidity of the removal of the last bits of clothing. Within seconds they stood naked before each other fueling the desire in the other with seductive caresses. Although it was far from the first time they had coupled, nor the first since they'd become married, there was a very base carnal lust in the way they caressed each other. When Auggie picked Annie up and tossed her on the bed he wasn't exactly gently, nor was he exceedingly rough, but it was clear that he was in command of the situation; that he wanted what was his in the most carnal of ways.

An all-too-brief half-an-hour later the newlyweds lay in each other's arms crosswise of bed and quite sated.

"One hunger satisfied," Auggie eventually announced as he caressed Annie's hair. "Now the need for food is making itself known. Shall we shower and dress and then pop down to the town for a bite?"

"Mind reader," Annie replied and giggled a bit. "I was just thinking the same thing. The restaurant here is quite nice, but a bit stuffy. A nice walk into town sounds good," Annie said as she sat up and climbed out of bed. On her way into the bathroom she announced, "I noticed a nice little place that seemed like it catered more to the locals than the tourists down by the docks. Want to see what it's all about?"

"Yeah, I guess," Auggie said as he got up off the bed. "Now go get showered and dressed," he added.

They strolled into town and found the café. Inside was plain, but very clean. At a round table in the corner a small group of charter boat captains and hands lingered, chatting, over coffee and tea. Annie noted that Pierre, the captain of the small yacht that brought them to the island was among them. She nodded a brief greeting as she and Auggie entered and found a table. Both had croissants with lots of butter and strawberry jam, and Auggie added a bit of scrambled egg with his café au lait. When they'd finished, Pierre was still chatting with his cronies. Annie caught his attention and he came over to their table. They made arrangements with him for a morning of fishing the next day, and the sunset into moonlight cruise for the night before they were to leave if the weather held out to be suitable. The rest of the morning found the couple exploring the many shops in the town of Gustavia. The locals were very pleased when Annie spoke to them in French.

After a quick bite of bread, cheese and wine at another of the local establishments, Annie and Auggie found themselves back at the hotel in the spa for a full service treatment – massage, facial, manicures and yes, Auggie even allowed a pedicure. Even though he would never admit it to Annie, Auggie enjoyed the attention heaped upon him. While lying on the massage tables just feet apart, Auggie delighted in the sighs and soft moans of pleasure coming from the next table as the masseuse ministered to Annie. The soft music, the scent of the massage oil, and the feel of the woman's expert hands massaging his every muscle lulled Auggie into a state of relaxation that he had not felt in far too long.

After the massages ended, as Auggie was putting the robe provided by the spa back on, Annie couldn't help but admire the way her husband's muscles rippled under skin now glistening from the massage oil. The suppleness of his skin accentuated every firm muscle beneath it.

"You're staring again, Mrs. Anderson," Auggie said as he snugged the robe's belt around his mid-section.

"Caught red-handed," Annie replied and smiled. "Sometimes I can't believe my eyes when I look at you. You are damn near the perfect specimen of a man; and I can't believe that you belong to me."

"And when I feel you beside me, I can't believe how lucky I am to have you. Sometimes I just wish that I could reciprocate with the staring."

"Sometimes I think you are," Annie said softly. "You are very good at making eye contact with whomever you're with. Often the only thing that gives you away is the white cane. As long as we've been together, I sometimes forget; and, once in a great while, when I remember I get a pang of regret."

"You regret what?" Auggie asked cautiously.

"Regret that you can't see."

"Yeah, sometimes so do I. But, now it is time for us to get dressed and continue this unwinding from the wedding stuff. I would like to go for a leisurely stroll along one of the beaches this place is famous for. How about you?"

"That sounds like a very good idea. The brochure for this place says we are just a two-minute walk from one of the best beaches on the island. Let's go find it."

Within twenty minutes the pair were strolling barefoot at the water's edge the gentle waves lapping at their feet. Eventually, even though they had no towel or blanket with them, they sat on the sandy beach. The white sand was so fine that it felt like caster sugar. They sat there, gentle breeze ruffling wisps of their hair, for a good long while talking of many things: Annie's slight trepidations about the fishing trip in the morning, of plans for the rest of the week – an affirming long range plans for work and in their lives together – and of things that Annie described to Auggie. The sun was sinking lower on the horizon, and the shadows growing longer, when Annie finally stood up and brushed the sand from her shorts.

"The light's going to be fading soon," Annie told Auggie as she retrieved her sandals from where they lay on the sand. "I think it's time we started heading back to the hotel."

Beside her Auggie grunted an 'Okay' and rose to his feet. After brushing the sand from his own shorts, Auggie offered his folded cane in Annie's direction. "You need this to find our way back to the path back to room?"

"No, silly. There's still plenty of light for me to see my way back there; will be for some time, too," Annie replied and allowed a smile of amusement.

"I can hear you smiling," Auggie said and smiled himself. Before latching on to his wife's arm, he swept the sand at his feet and located his footwear. As they traversed the few hundred yards back to the pathway back to the hotel they discussed where to go for dinner. They decided to get the driver to take them to one of the islands other towns, St. Jean, to an island favorite 'the Hideaway.'

Back in their room the pair freshened up a bit, but did not change out of their very casual shorts and T-shirts. Within an hour they were seated at an oilcloth-covered table ordering pizza and beer and soaking up the laid back ambiance of the place. When they first entered the 'Hideaway', Annie noticed, a bit uncomfortably, that Auggie, with his white cane prominently displayed and acting as a bit of a bumper in front of him, came under a bit of scrutiny both by staff and other diners. Although she described their surroundings to him, Annie did not convey that bit of information to her husband. She didn't have to; he was aware of it anyway.

After they had been seated and placed their drink orders, Auggie leaned over to Annie and whispered, "I created quite a stir when we came in didn't I?"

A bit sheepishly Annie replied, "Yeah. I was hoping you hadn't noticed that."

"Well, when there is lively conversation, a few moments of silence and then hushed whispering, it's kind of hard not to notice. I'm blind not deaf, Annie." He added the last with a hint of irritation. Annie was not sure if he was irritated at her or the situation she had failed to mention. She did not have to wonder for long. "Get used to that, dear," Auggie said wearily a few moments later. "It comes with the territory. I thought you understood that."

"I try to put that sort of thing out of my mind," Annie admitted ruefully. "I've noticed it before when we were back in Illinois with your family, but not so much back in Washington. I guess that's because there we frequent places where you're known."

Auggie patted Annie on the leg. "It's okay, Honey. I got used to it a long time ago. Sometimes it upsets me, mostly I'm mildly amused. Tonight I'm more amused than upset. Let it go. Since I'm not upset you shouldn't be either. Now, since I'm pretty sure they don't have a braille menu here, what's on the menu?"

Annie briefly paraphrased what the eatery offered. They agreed on the wood-fired pizza and ordered that. They ate leisurely and savored what they giggled over as, to paraphrase Jimmy Buffet, 'pizza in paradise.'

Later in the evening an older gentleman approached the table with a tray with three glasses on it. He introduced himself as 'Andy, the proprietor' and pulled up a chair and sat down. Placing a glass of what they soon found out was local vanilla rum before Annie and Auggie; he took a sip of his own. For the next three-quarters-an-hour or so, he regaled the newlyweds with tales of the local history and bits of his own life. Both Annie and Auggie shared bits about themselves, too. A bit over two hours after arriving the newlywed pair reluctantly called it a night and staggered a bit as they walked to their waiting car.

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><p><strong>The muse could use a bit of feeding by way of a review or two. Did you get what you wanted out of this 'chapter'? More is in the works, just not sure how long until it's posted.<strong>


	38. The Honeymoon Part 3

**Here's the next to the last part of Annie and Auggie's honeymoon on St. Barts. Yes, they are doing more than 'coupling' on deserted beaches. That's not all that people do on their honeymoon. Guess that explains the dirth of comments. Read between the lines, use your imagination, there's a lot of chances for Annie looking lovingly at Auggie and for him to touch her tenderly if you read them in there between the sceens I choose to share. That's okay, but somewhat surprising that a few 'regulars' haven't commented.**

**Mandy58 has looked it over and made a few suggestions/corrections. **

**Once again, I only own the version of Auggie Anderson and Annie Walker that live in my head. The ones that I like to envision as a loving couple with children and all the trials tribulations and joys that come with being a family. The ones that are only loosely based on the originals from USA's Covert Affairs. ****As much as I wish I could at times, I gain nothing from penning thsee stories and glimpses into Annie's and Auggie's married life.**

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><p>The alarm on Auggie's iPhone chimed him into consciousness, and then Annie's took up the call, too. As his new bride stirred beside him, Auggie fumbled for his phone on the nightstand and completed the gestures to turn it off. He groaned as he swung his legs out of bed. Running his hands through his hair he tried to remember three things: first, he wanted to remember why his mouth felt like cotton and his head hurt; second, he needed to know where he was, and why in god's name he'd set the alarm. As he sat rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands and then running them through his tangled mop of hair again, it all started to come back to him – he was on his honeymoon in a luxury hotel on the Caribbean island of St. Barts; he'd had a combination of a beer and too many shots of vanilla rum the night before; and he'd set the alarm because he and his new wife had a date with a boat and a fishing pole this morning. With a prolonged sigh he felt around on the nightstand for his watch. As soon as his fingers brushed against it, it fell on the floor. "Shit," he muttered and began to search the floor in front of the bedside table.<p>

Behind him his new wife got out of bed and padded around to his side. By the time she made it around the bed Auggie had located his watch. When he sat up straight Annie stepped between his legs and kissed her husband. First chastely on the forehead, and then open-mouthed on his. Watch tightly grasped in his right hand, Auggie encircled Annie with his arms and drew her in a bit. She allowed him to bury his face in valley between her breasts. After lightly kissing his wife's skin and then each breast in turn, Auggie loosened his embrace and gently pushed his wife away.

"As much as I would love to make love with you this morning …"

"I know," Annie interjected and stepped away from her husband. A few minutes later she was in the shower.

As soon as Annie had stepped away from him, Auggie opened the crystal on his watch and scanned the watch's face with the index finger of his right hand. With a slight groan at the time, Auggie flopped back on the bed and spread his arms out to the side and then swept them up over his head in a lazy stretch. Another soft groan escaped him as he rose and, with both hands extended loosely in front of him, crossed the room to the desk in the corner of the opposite wall. After locating the chair and sitting down, Auggie scanned the right side of the table for the phone. After only a moment's hesitation, he picked up the receiver and dialed the number for room service; he ordered a more American-style breakfast of eggs, toast and a large carafe of coffee. That task completed he carefully made his way to where his suitcase rested on the rack in the closet area of the room. After digging around in it for a few minutes he located the clothes that he was searching for and carried them to the bed and laid them on the foot of it. A light rap on the door and the announcement of 'room service' almost startled him. He wasn't expecting it quite so quickly.

When he opened the door he was met by the same voice that had delivered his coffee the morning before. This pleased him; he wouldn't have to explain the way things were to a new person. As soon as the young man had pushed the room service cart to an out-of-the-way spot near the desk, he poured Auggie a mug of coffee and placed it into Auggie's outstretched hand.

"Merci," Auggie said after taking a quick sip of the hot liquid.

"You're welcome, Mr. Anderson," the younger man replied. "Same as yesterday?"

Auggie nodded, "Yeah, if that okay with you."

"Of course, sir. You were almost too kind yesterday, but that would be just about right for today."

"Okay then," Auggie said as he held out his hand so he could sign the room service ticket.

"That's okay, Mr. Anderson, I don't need your signature today." And with that he closed the door behind himself.

"I hope you got me a coffee this morning, too," Annie said as she came out of the bathroom still toweling off her hair.

"I did," Auggie replied. "I got a whole pot. And some eggs and toast, too. Did you think to pack any pain relievers? I think this headache might need a bit more than coffee to persuade it to go away."

"I did. Hold out your hand."

Auggie complied with his wife's gentle command and was rewarded with a capsule placed in the palm of his hand and his fingers gently curled around it. Bringing his fisted hand to his mouth he popped the pill in and washed it down with a swig of his coffee.

"Thought you might need one of those this morning," Annie said as Auggie downed the capsule.

"Thanks," Auggie muttered as he moved toward the corner where the room service cart was parked.

The pair sat and ate and then Auggie went in to take his shower and shave. The combination of coffee, pain reliever and a hot shower seemed to cure his headache. As they strolled hand-in-hand into town he was actually feeling pretty good. Annie on the other hand, was hiding behind a pair of sunglasses in the early morning light.

Pierre met them at the entrance to the marina and made comment on Annie's demeanor to Auggie as the made their way to the fishing boat.

"It looks like the misses is a bit under-the-weather this morning. Are you sure you want to go out today?"

"Annie?" Auggie asked with alarm.

"I'm okay, Auggie," she hurriedly replied. "My headache isn't completely gone. I'm wearing a big floppy hat and shades. I should have been a bit more firm in refusing the vanilla rum last night."

"Ah, you went to the Hideaway last night and met Andy then?" Pierre interjected.

"Yes," Annie replied. "Nice man, but doesn't take no very well," she continued.

"He's famous for that vanilla rum he serves to people he's taken a fancy to. I can see how he might have liked the two of you. You're a bit different than the usual folk that come here."

"Different how?" Auggie asked.

"Much more down-to-earth; unassuming. You can tell that you come from big money, but you don't flaunt it or lord it over the rest of us. We're at the boat, Mr. Anderson. I'll help your lady aboard then give you a hand."

A few minutes later Pierre was showing Auggie around a bit and introducing him and Annie to the two deckhands.

After a few safety instructions to his passengers Pierre climbed to the pilothouse and started the engines. He eased out of the harbor and into open waters where he throttled up. As the 27-foot fishing boat cut through the water Annie described the sunrise to Auggie. A bit later she described the antics of the dolphins that were riding the bow wave of the boat as it continued to cut through the light chop to the fishing ground. When the boat neared its destination, the deckhands finished breaking out the gear and showing Auggie the rod and reel he'd be using, how to safely bait the hook, and how to cast the line out. He was wearing a huge grin as he examined the rod, reel and the harness that he'd wear to help hold and control the large rod.

Annie chose not to actually fish, but opted instead to assist Auggie. Once they'd anchored at the chosen site, she helped him bait his hook and then kept an eye on his bobber. She was struck how very similar, outside of the equipment being ten times larger, deep sea fishing was to what she'd been coaxed to do with her father and several boyfriends from high school. She hadn't particularly enjoyed it back then, and would have preferred to be somewhere else this time, too. But, she vowed, she would never let Auggie know that.

For several hours they bobbed on ocean's surface with moderate luck at catching anything. Auggie had hooked a few smaller yellow-fin tuna – which the deckhands had brought on board to sell to one of the local restaurants – but nothing that had really taxed his strength or needed much skill to bring alongside the boat. They were about ready to pull up anchor and head in when both Annie and one of the deckhands yelled to Auggie to yank on the rod to set the hook. From the tug on the line and rod, Auggie knew that he'd caught something much larger than either of the tuna he'd hooked previously.

For a long time Auggie played the line and reeled the unknown sea creature closer to the boat; suddenly the line went slack and Pierre exclaimed, "WOW!"

"What?" Auggie asked excitedly.

"It seems," Pierre began somewhat excitedly also, "that you have had a rare streak of beginner's luck. You, my man, have hooked a fair sized Marlin. Marlin are the top of the sport fishing chain and very rare in these waters."

"Really? What do I do now?"

"You play with her until either you get too tired to go on, or she gets too tired to fight anymore. If you get tired first, one of us will spell you for a bit. When she tires we'll bring her alongside and cut her loose. Unless you want a trophy for your wall."

"I'm not the trophy taking type," Auggie replied firmly. "Just wanted to be able to say I'd been deep sea fishing," he admitted moments later.

"Ah, I see," Pierre said. "Many serious sport fishermen go years before they catch one that big. I'm guessing 750 to 800 pounds. Only the females get that large. Just blind dumb lu…"

Auggie, the muscles in his arms bulging from the exertion of pulling back mightily on the rod, laughed heartily at Pierre's discomfort. "Yeah, it is blind dumb luck on several levels," Auggie said between tugs on the rod.

For the next hour-and-a-half they fought – man and beast – and at different times it seemed the other was winning the battle. Auggie's body, as fit as he was, fatigued and he reluctantly relinquished the rod and reel to one of the deckhands. Finally the large beast was subdued, brought alongside the boat, and cut loose from the line. But not until Pierre offered Auggie a chance to 'look' at his catch. Not surprisingly Auggie declined the honor.

Shortly after the man versus fish battle concluded, Pierre pulled up anchor and headed back to the harbor. They had been out longer than planned upon, but Pierre had taken photos and had a tale to tell his buddies at the café the next morning.

As the fishing boat headed back to shore, Annie and Auggie retired to the cabin to get out of the sun for a bit. Even though Annie had insisted on frequently applying a high SPF value sunscreen, Auggie was showing signs of being mildly sunburned on his face and arms. For that matter, so was Annie. On the trip back to the marina, both Annie and Auggie ate a sandwich and a piece of fruit that Pierre had brought along for them and his crew. Annie could not help but notice the self-satisfied demeanor of her husband. She was happy for him, too. Sometimes it was easy to forget that underneath that seemingly confident exterior was a man with a whole host of insecurities due to the fact that he could no longer see.

When Pierre announced that they were approaching landfall, Annie dug the bottle of sunscreen from her beach bag and insisted once again that Auggie apply some to his face, neck and arms; when he was done she did the same knowing that the sun was at its peak potency for a few more hours.

The slowing of the boat prompted Auggie to check the time on his watch. A mischievous grin curled the corners of his mouth and brought a subtle sparkle to his eyes.

"Auggie? What has you grinning like you've just hatched a devious plan?" Annie asked and chuckled lightly.

"Did you wear a swimsuit under your clothes? Or do you have one packed in your bag with the sunscreen?" Auggie asked in a non-revealing tone.

"Yeah. When I noticed you had your trunks on under your shorts I packed a suit and a towel in my beach bag. Why?"

"While you were below using the head when we were getting ready to head back in before I hooked the Marlin, I asked one of the men if there were any secluded beaches on the island. He mentioned one that was accessible only by a nice hike or by dingy or jet ski. There are jet skis available at the marina …"

"Oh, Auggie that sounds so … romantic. Yes, let's do it."

Auggie only grinned more broadly.

Once the boat had docked, Annie and Auggie thanked Pierre and his crew profusely for the wonderful time they had fishing and then made a beeline toward the jet ski rental. To his mock dismay, the proprietor of the jet ski place would not rent to Auggie, but soon the pair, now clad solely in their swimming attire, were on their way to the secluded beach with some bottled water, fresh fruit, towel and sunscreen in the small storage area under the seat.

With Annie at the controls, Auggie wrapped his arms firmly around her as they zipped, a few hundred yards offshore, across the calm tropical waters to the location of the beach on the northwest tip of the island. Although quite secluded, the beach is well-known so Annie was somewhat surprised when she beached the jet ski that there was no one else about. And there was no discernible signs that there had been anyone there for quite some time.

Once she'd retrieved her beach bag from the storage area on the jet ski, hand-in-hand she and Auggie traipsed partway up the beach with sand so fine it almost felt like baby powder. After spreading the towel on the ground, Annie dug out the mangos that she'd liberated from the sack of fruit that Pierre had on his boat that morning. She offered one and a bottle of water to Auggie. He accepted both and unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and took a swig.

As they snacked, Annie described their surroundings and the calmness of the water in the cove – almost as still as bathwater. Once they'd finished the mangos, Annie wrapped the pits in a paper napkin she'd also liberated from the supply on the boat and tucked it into the corner of her tote for disposal later.

Auggie suddenly rose from where he was sitting and took off running toward the water. After a moment of surprise, Annie followed him. For a time the newlywed pair frolicked in the secluded bay – chasing, splashing, and dunking each other like a pair of teenagers.

Auggie came up spluttering after Annie had swum up to him underwater and knocked him off his feet. "No fair, Annie!" he yelled moments later. "I didn't hear you coming!"

"That was the whole idea," Annie retorted matter-of-factly while dancing away in the chest deep water.

A broad smile erupted on Auggie's face. "C'm'ere."

"Nu-uh. You're gonna dunk me."

"No, Annie, I'm not. C'm'ere," he said a bit more forcefully.

"Nu-uh. Come get me," she teased.

Auggie paused for a moment listening intently and then took a few steps in the direction he'd last heard Annie's voice coming from. Pausing he listened again. "Annie, this is not Marco Polo," Auggie stated in a slightly exasperated tone. "Damnit, Annie," he muttered.

"What, Auggie?" Annie said a few feet in front of him. "I haven't moved."

"Something just brushed against my legs. Thought it was you playing tricks on me."

"Let's get out of the water," Annie said hurrying to Auggie's side. She grasped his hand and waded toward the beach.

When they were in ankle deep water, Auggie turned and wrapped an arm around Annie's thin body and pulled her to him. She struggled briefly against the confinement, but stopped when Auggie began to kiss her.

"You're not mad at me for knocking you off your feet?" She asked when he stopped kissing her long enough to take a breath.

"No. Why would I be? You treated me like you might anyone else. Yeah, I was briefly upset, but I would have been even if I could still see. The fact that I can't …"

Annie attacked his mouth with hers, silencing him. Auggie pulled her tighter to his body and she felt his unmistakably growing arousal as his hand drifted lower to cup her buttock. Moments later Annie took Auggie by the hand and led him back to the towel. It didn't take but a few minutes for Auggie to have Annie's bikini bottoms down around her knees and his trunks were soon in a similar position. The risk of unwanted discovery both hastened and heightened their love-making even though for the ensuing fifteen minutes the rest of the world ceased to exist for the newlyweds.

"Annie," Auggie began earnestly

"What?" Annie replied contentedly.

"Hurry. We need to get out of this position," Auggie replied withdrawing from her hurriedly.

"Why?" Annie mumbled with growing alarm

"We're going to get company," Auggie relay succinctly. "There's a pair of jet skis getting closer.

"Are you sure? I don't hear anything."

"You're questioning this blind man about sounds?" Auggie asked with a bit of disbelief as he rose to his feet and offered a hand to his bride.

After taking Auggie's hand and letting him pull her to her feet, Annie pulled her bikini bottoms up and situated the strings on her hips as Auggie pulled his trunks up, too. "No I'm not questioning a blind man on his hearing, I'm questioning my husband's over active imagination. And marveling at how much sooner you hear things than I do."

"So, you believe me now?" Auggie asked as he extended his hand to his wife again. When she took the offered hand he began to hurry toward the water's edge. They were once again frolicking in the water as the pair of jet skis entered the secluded cove, stopped short of the beach and sat bobbing in their own wake for a few moments.

"Ahoy," a male voice called from the nearest jet ski. "May we join you on the beach?"

"Of course," Auggie called back. "We're just about ready to leave so you can have the beach to yourself in a little bit."

"Don't mean to run you off," the man replied as he eased his machine closer to shore.

"No problem," Annie responded. "It's getting to be time for us to be heading back in."

"Are you sure about that?" Auggie questioned Annie so that only she could hear.

"Yeah, the mood's broken now, and it's about time to find something more than mangos to eat." Annie splashed Auggie one last time and brushed her hand against his. As the other couple dismounted their jet skis, Auggie grasped his wife's arm in standard sighted guide configuration. After Annie shook the sand from the extra-large towel she dried off a bit and then draped it over Auggie's shoulder. As Auggie toweled off, Annie took her sunglasses from the tote bag and put them on; when her husband was done with the towel she took it from his outstretched hand, loosely folded it and stuffed it into the bag.

Once again Annie brushed her hand against Auggie's and, once again, he grasped her arm just above her elbow and let her lead him back to their jet ski. Once Annie had straddled the jet ski and gotten settled, Auggie pushed it off the beach and then climbed up behind her, wrapping his arms about her loosely. Once they'd cleared the mouth to the secluded beach, Annie throttled the machine up and sped back to the marina. Behind her she heard Auggie laughing with glee and great abandon.

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><p><strong>AN The final part is in the works, but may not be up as soon as Id - and I imagine a few of you - might like. We are in the process of buying a different house and moving. Some of the time that has been devoted to writing now must be used for sorting through and packing 23 years of accumulated 'stuff'. There are more stories clamouring to be told, but I'm just not sure how long it will take for a new schedule to develop that will allow them to be told. That is if anyone is still interested in reading them.**


	39. The Honeymoon Part 4

**Here's the next installemnt of Annie's and Auggie's honeymoon trip to the Caribbean. I think, now, that I should have made this storyline it's own complete short story. It's become far longer than I'd first envisioned. Oh, well, it's here in 'Happily Ever After' and I guess this is where it'll stay.**

**Mandy has looked it over and made a few suggestions. For those I thank her. Jade2099 has also contributed to this work. Again I thank her for taking time from her busy life to help me out. **

**Once again I need to remind everyone that I have no association with _Covert Affairs_ beyond that of a fan. I write these stories for my own, and hopefully your, entertainment.**

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><p>It was apparent to Auggie when he woke and yawned and stretched that he'd gotten too much sun the day before – the skin on his face and back was tight and crinkling it was a bit uncomfortable. He rolled toward the center of the bed and scanned the other half of the king-sized bed with his hand. It was empty and, since there was no longer a heat signature, had been for some time. He rolled back and sat up on the edge of the bed and huffed a sigh. Listening carefully he determined that Annie, his bride now of four days, wasn't in the bathroom, nor was she in the room. A slight ocean breeze indicated that the door to the terrace that Annie said overlooked the town and harbor was open. With hands slightly outstretched before him, Auggie padded to the door.<p>

"Annie?" he queried softly from the doorway.

"I'm here by the terrace wall. Before you come out, there's coffee in a thermal carafe on the right corner of the desk. My turn to obtain the coffee this morning."

After a moment's thought, Auggie continued onto the terrace. Annie didn't speak but hummed softly until Auggie reached her side. He reached out gently until the back of his hand touched his wife's side. Anticipating the embrace that was likely to come next, Annie placed her coffee cup on the stone cap to the terrace wall. Turning to fully face her husband, Annie guided his hands to her waist. Auggie ghosted his hands up to her shoulders and then cupped the sides of her face and tilted her head up slightly. This morning his lips caressed hers tenderly; there was restrained passion behind them.

Secure in her husband's embrace, Annie rested her head on his well-defined chest and he rested his chin on the top of her head. The stood like that for a few minutes then, Auggie pulled out of the embrace and turned to head back into the room. "Right side of the desk you say?"

"Yeah," Annie replied retrieving her half-full cup from where she'd set it down a few minutes before. She watched with a bit of sadness as Auggie veered off course a bit on his way back inside and found the wall to the right side of the doorway rather than the opened door itself. After a cursory scan to both the right and the left, Auggie sidestepped a bit and entered the room. Annie took another sip of her coffee and returned to her observation of the town and harbor below her. A few minutes later Auggie rejoined her with his cup of coffee in hand.

"What's on our agenda for today?" Auggie asked as he crossed the stone terrace.

"We have a massage each left in the spa, but I'm not sure that would be very comfortable with us both being slightly sunburned from yesterday's romps in the sun. And your mom texted me late last night that we need to go see the astrologer before we leave. She has us appointments at 6:00 this evening. She's said that it's a 'must do' sort of thing. That everyone needs to do it while they're here. I'm game if you are.

"You did what I wanted to do yesterday, so today is all yours. Whatever – within reason – you want to do today is fine with me." He came up behind her, placed his free hand on her waist, and leaned in and whispered, "I know yesterday morning was no fun for you. I know that you would have rather been anywhere else on earth than helping me bait hooks and watching my bobber. You have no idea how much I loved that you were willing to do that for me."

Annie turned around under her husband's tender touch. "Auggie, where on earth did you get that idea?"

"You played your part very well, my dear. That's why you are so very good at what we do. But, remember, I'm good at what we do, too. It was so subtle, that I almost missed it, but once I picked up on that one little thing …"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response because you are so wrong. Would I rather have been somewhere else? Yeah, I can think of a couple places I would rather have been – asleep is definitely one – but was I unhappy being there? No. It gave me great pleasure to see you having what I think was the time of your life. Now," she said rising up on her toes a bit and kissing her husband, "if you'd like, we could go back to bed and … not sleep."

Auggie chuckled a bit at the coy suggestion. "Annie, my dear, contrary to popular belief, I am not a sex machine; I don't need that every day as enjoyable as that might seem. Today, anything is going to pale compared to what we had yesterday on the beach. I can wait for later or another day if you can."

"And what if I don't want to wait?" Annie replied guiding his left hand under her silk nightshirt to cup her breast – a breast that clearly indicated that she was aroused even if he wasn't.

Surprised by the state his wife was in, Auggie helplessly searched for a place to set his coffee cup down. Annie finally took it from him and set his full cup beside her partially empty one. Now freed from the encumbrance of a full cup of hot liquid Auggie's right hand snaked between his wife's legs.

"My god, woman. What has gotten into you this morning?"

"Nothing yet," she cooed pushing her husband forcefully back toward the open doorway. "Nothing yet, but thoughts of yesterday have me wanting more."

"Apparently," Auggie muttered as he allowed himself to be maneuvered backward. Partway into the bedroom he began to shower Annie's mouth with kisses. Soon the backs of his calves met with the edge of the bed and Annie gave her husband a firm shove so that he flopped back on the bed. She scrambled on top and then straddled his waist.

"Whatcha gonna do now, secret agent man?" Annie asked seductively.

"This," Auggie replied reversing their positions in one easy move.

For a few minutes they caressed each other with kisses and touches. Then Annie opened her legs and invited her husband in. By this time he was able to oblige her. As soon as he'd brought Annie to her peak he reached his own. While Annie softly moaned with pleasure, Auggie continued to lay on top of her for a bit, caressing her hair gently.

"Did you get what you wanted?" he whispered in her ear.

"Mmm," she mumbled and gently pushed on his shoulders. He complied by withdrawing from her and rolling to one side.

Annie snuggled into his side and they lay cuddling for the longest while. Finally Annie took her husband's arm from on top of her and rolled so that she could kiss him on the cheek. Then, while he moved to sit up, she padded quietly off to the bathroom to take a shower.

As Annie showered, Auggie called for appointments at the spa for later that afternoon, and then called to arrange for the car to pick them up in ninety minutes and show them the other parts of the island that they hadn't seen yet. Then he called room service for more coffee, croissants, strawberry jam, bacon and eggs for himself and a Greek yogurt for Annie.

It was mid-morning when the car and driver arrived to take them on a tour of the small island. First they drove around Gustavia a bit then to Nikki's on the Beach for a champagne and Russian caviar snack during the fashion show. Auggie endured the show, while Annie fidgeted endlessly as the scantily clad, rail-thin models tried to get her husband's attention. And then a brief visit to some of the small villages. Mid-afternoon found them in the small town of St. Jean, where the driver insisted that they needed to at least browse for a bit on the street with the high-end boutiques. As they strolled along the narrow street, Annie kept a running commentary on what she saw. Occasionally Auggie would smile broadly or laugh at his wife's comments. After picking up a few trinkets from one of the stores for Danielle, Katia and Chloe, Annie insisted that the driver take them back to Gustavia and their hotel – she was terminally bored and knew that Auggie must be also.

After dropping the few packages that they'd acquired along the way in their room, Annie and Auggie retreated to the spa for their last massages. As the masseuses worked on their backs, Annie commented to Auggie, "I have never felt so out of place in my life. I know that almost everything here has to be imported from somewhere else, but the prices in those boutiques today were unreal. I've mingled with these sorts of people for work, but this is my real life, and … Oh, Auggie, when are we going home? I want to go home to our boring middle class life in Reston."

"Yes, dear," Auggie mumbled lazily.

"Did you even hear what I said?" Annie shot back testily.

"Yes, dear, I heard you. You don't like it here and want to go home," Auggie answered. "I'll see if I can get us out of here tomorrow."

"I didn't say we had to leave tomorrow, I just wanted to know when we were scheduled to leave."

"Saturday. We're supposed to leave out on Saturday," Auggie responded quietly.

"Oh." Annie sighed and tried to enjoy the rest of the massage as she listened to the masseuses chatter back and forth in French.

"_La dame __n'est pas__ contente__ ici__. __Elle __veut aller chez elle__._

_Mon __homme __n'est pas __heureux non plus__. __Il __est devenu très __tendu quand __la dame__ lui __a dit qu'elle voulait__aller chez elle._

_Ces deux__, __ils ne sont pas __comme les autres __qui viennent ici__._

_Non, ils __ne le font pas__parti comme les autres__. __Et __ils sont polis, __pas hautain__._

_J'aime __cette paire__. __Je suis tellement désolé __qu'ils __n'aiment pas notre __belle île__._

_Peut-être__si l'homme __n'était pas __aveugle, il __souhaiterait que la __beauté qui __est notre __surf et __une végétation luxuriante._

_Quelque part, je __pense qu'il __apprécie __même ce qu'il __ne peut pas voir_."

As they strolled, hand-in-hand, back to their room, Auggie asked Annie, "They were talking about us weren't they?"

"Who?"

"The masseuses while they were finishing our massages."

"Yeah," Annie reluctantly admitted. "I guess most of their clients don't understand French. They like us since we're not like most of the people they get to deal with. … Your masseuse said that you tensed up when I said I wanted to go home. Why?"

Auggie sighed slightly before he began to speak. "I wanted this time to be wonderful for you. It's not and I don't know what to do to make it so."

"Oh, Auggie, it's not like I'm not having a good time. It's just that today pointed out how big the gap is between the way most visitors to this beautiful place live and my .. our … lives. We don't belong here. …"

Auggie stopped walking and pulled Annie back to him. "We'll finish out today. It's probably too late to try to change our flights back to the States tonight. First thing in the morning … I wish I had my team to put to work on this. They'd extract us in a heartbeat."

Annie laughed heartedly. "Yes, I'm sure you do. They have worked wonders for me more than once. Let's see what happens tonight and in the morning. I'm feeling less uncomfortable right now."

After pulling Annie into a hug, Auggie whispered, "Whatever you want to do, my dear."

"Right now, I want to go get dressed for the evening and go find this astrologer that your mother insists we visit."

# # # # #

Hostellerie des 3 Forces nestled in the shadow of a ridge between it and the sea. Annie took in the look of the small intimate hotel and described it to Auggie who smiled slightly at the succinct description of the layout and the setting – just enough to give him a sense of his surroundings. After the car had pulled to a stop under the portico, Auggie slid out of the back seat and held out his hand to his wife; Annie slid over and swung her legs out of the vehicle and accepted her husband's assisting hand. Pushing the car door closed, Annie assumed the role of Auggie's sighted guide seamlessly.

Promptly at 6:00 Annie and Auggie strolled into the decidedly Caribbean lobby of the hotel owned by the Astrologer H. de la Motte. Monsieur de la Motte met them in the center of the lobby and looked them up and down with a critical eye.

"Mr. & Mrs. Anderson?" he asked coming toward them with outstretched hand.

"Yes," Auggie responded offering his hand.

After another quick observation of the couple before him, H. de la Motte took Auggie's offered hand and shook it firmly. "Yes, of course you are. I would know you anywhere." Then he took Annie's hand and touched his lips to the back of it. "Follow me," the astrologer said as he dropped Annie's hand.

H. de la Motte led the way down a short hallway and into an eclectically furnished office. He took a seat behind a medium-sized round table draped with a colorful fringed scarf and the requisite crystal ball in the center. After gesturing to the wing-backed chairs that flanked the table, H. de la Motte gathered up the sheets of paper scattered on the tabletop. "Madame, first?"

"Yes, of course," Auggie replied settling back into the chair.

"What do I need to do?" Annie queried.

"Nothing at the moment," the astrologer said as he sorted through the papers in his hand. "When the appointment was made I gathered most of the information that I needed to do your charts."

For the next few minutes he went over, first Annie's chart and then Auggie's noting the planets and 'houses' that ruled each of their destinies. For the most part both Annie and Auggie were mildly amused with things that they were told. H. de la Motte had a way of phrasing the mundane that made it sound new and exciting; prophetic even. He'd 'seen' a long prosperous union between them; two children – a boy first and then a girl; ups, and downs, but mostly ups, in both of their work worlds and in their personal finances; and other basic things like that. As they were preparing to leave, the astrologer looked at them both with concern, "I see danger in both of your worlds. Things are not always what they might seem to be. Right now both of you are in the dark, but one day Mr. Anderson will come into the light. Shortly thereafter you will suffer a tragedy; you will lose someone close to you. Not a parent, but someone closer to you. Both of you must be careful or the other things cannot happen." Then he brightened, "Now you must come to the dining room. I will grill you my famous Spiny Lobster."

For the next almost two hours, de la Motte and his wife/hostess Ginette plied them, and a Russian tycoon and his entourage, with fine wine and regaled them with the story of their lives and how they came to own the small hotel.

As the evening progressed, the wine and other spirits flowed freely and the party of Russians began to talk freely in Russian. Some of the conversation between the Russian tycoon and another man he seemed to be entertaining for the evening, began to pique Annie's interest, but she worked hard to keep any indication that she understood them from her bearing, although she did curtail her consumption of alcohol while making it appear that she was growing more inebriated along with the others. If Auggie realized what was happening, he did not let on.

Finally the evening wound to an early close and Annie and Auggie took the car back to Gustavia and their hotel. Their driver was surprised, and expressed it, that the pair wanted to return to their hotel rather than hit one of the many night clubs scattered around the island to drink, dance and be seen.

* * *

><p><strong>Like I said before, this little story has gone on longer than I'd intended it to when I began to write it. I'm trying to tie it all up in one more chapter. We'll see what happens - <strong>


	40. The Honeymoon Part 5

Here's the last of Annie and Auggie's honeymoon. It's long and somewhat action packed.

A number of people have had a say in this chapter. They know who they are and how much I appreciate their help. Thanks ladies! Even so, I'm sure there will be errors, but I'm tired of editing since my mind is on other things right now.

I write for diversion and personal pleasure. Outside of that of a rabid fan, I have no interest in Covert Affairs.

* * *

><p>Annie opened the door to their room and stopped so quickly that Auggie almost ran into her.<p>

"What's wrong?" Auggie asked with slight alarm.

"I don't know for sure, but there's something off with the room. Someone's been in here. And I don't mean housekeeping either," Annie explained in a hushed whisper.

Without hesitation Auggie pushed past his wife and made his way as quickly as he could to the closet where his suitcase rested on the folding rack. The concerned look he had faded into relief as his long, sensitive fingers located that for which he searched.

Coming up behind her husband, Annie asked, "Is everything all right?"

Withdrawing his hand from his leather bag, Auggie nodded, "Yeah. At least I think it is. My phone's where I left it tucked in a dirty sock."

"August? Joan ordered us to leave our work stuff behind." Annie's tone wavered between accusation and understanding.

"She ordered you to leave your work stuff behind. I've checked in with her every day."

"When? When have you done that?"

"Middle of the night when you've been asleep, or when you've been in the shower. Now, have you figured out what is off in this room?"

"Yeah. The door to the terrace is partially open and I don't remember leaving it open when we left this morning, but everything else appears to be where it's supposed to be."

"Check your jewelry," Auggie commanded.

"The only jewelry that I have that's worth anything has been with me all day on my finger," Annie stated.

"But you brought other pieces. Check them," Auggie commanded again, a bit more forcefully.

"Okay," Annie replied with frustration as she moved the few feet to where her suitcase lay on the other suitcase rack in the vestibule to the bathroom. Moving the cotton bag holding her dirty laundry, Annie picked up the red leather zippered case and unzipped it. "It's all here," she commented to her husband.

"Good," Auggie replied with obvious relief. "Can't be too careful," he said as he began to tuck his phone back in his leather satchel.

"I'm going to take a shower," Annie said as she took Auggie's encrypted phone from his hand and began to move toward the luxurious bathroom. Auggie did not protest, but followed Annie into the bath and then to the shower enclosure. He turned on the water as Annie turned on the music player on the countertop; relaxing music soon poured from the speakers in the ceiling. Auggie sat on the toilet and Annie on the edge of the soaking tub. She dialed Joan Campbell's encrypted cell phone number.

"What's up, Auggie? It's not time for you to check in," Joan said as she answered her phone.

"It's not Auggie, Joan; it's Annie," Annie responded in somewhat hushed tones.

"What's happened to Auggie?" Joan responded in an even tone.

"He's right here and perfectly fine, if not a bit confused. I think someone's been in our room so I'm taking precautions, but I overheard something at dinner that I think someone needs to know about," Annie then launched into the details – naming names, dates and times, and the names of the ships – of the contraband that would be smuggled into the ports of New York, Boston and Miami and then connected up near Washington, DC. After she'd reluctantly admitted that she wasn't able to discern what was being smuggled in, Annie hung up and hoped that the information would find its way into the hands of the right alphabet agency. After turning off the water, Annie crossed the room and brushed the phone against the back of her husband's left hand. He grasped it with his right, rose from where he'd been sitting and then exited the bath to replace his phone in his suitcase.

Before she followed her husband out of the bathroom, Annie turned down the volume on the music but did not turn it off and got herself ready for bed. As she approached the bed, Auggie asked, a bit more loudly than necessary, "Are you done in there now?"

"Yes, dear," Annie replied, also a bit louder than she might have otherwise. She would do a bug sweep in the morning but she didn't want to call attention to the fact that she now suspected the possibility. Auggie rose and padded barefooted back into the bathroom. When he emerged a few minutes later he crossed to the bed and crawled in beside his very drowsy wife. They snuggled a bit and then Annie fell asleep with Auggie's strong arms cradling her.

# # # # #

Annie drowsily became aware that she was alone in the bed. In the dim light coming in from the still partially open doors to the terrace, she observed Auggie running his hands along the wall opposite the bed wall. When his hands found the picture hanging over the dresser he examined the back and edges of it carefully.

Fascinated, Annie sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, stretched her arms over her head and yawned. The slight sound cause Auggie to stiffen slightly and turn toward the sound with right index finger laid across his lips. Annie mumble a disguised 'uh-huh'. Auggie smiled slightly under his finger and returned his attention to the wall. With the upper part of the wall scanned, Auggie turned his attention the furnishings. For the next few minutes Annie watched Auggie run his hands and fingers over every surface of the comfortable chair near the entrance to the bathroom, then she quietly slipped out of bed and began to do the same with the desk and then scanned the objects upon it – including taking the ear and mouth pieces from the handset of the phone and checking to see if the screws on the bottom of the cradle had been undone and the bug placed inside. Once that was done, she checked out the switches and outlets as Auggie finished scanning the dresser. Just as Auggie was heading toward the desk and chair, Annie touched him on the left forearm. Automatically he turn toward the touch, Annie embraced him, and whispered in his ear, "I've scanned the other half of the room and found nothing remotely suspicious. What have you found?"

"The same," Auggie whispered back.

"How do we proceed?" Annie queried.

"Let's go outside," Auggie replied but gave his wife a lingering kiss before he broke the embrace.

With Auggie following closely behind, right hand resting lightly on the small of his wife's back, Annie crossed to the sliding glass door that resembled traditional French doors. Yanking on the door's handle Annie was surprised when the door did not budge but a fraction of an inch. "What the he…" she exclaimed stopping so quickly that Auggie couldn't stop fast enough and sandwiched her momentarily between him and the door before he took a step back.

"Annie?"

"The door's partway open so I knew it wasn't locked, and when I went to open it the rest of the way quickly it didn't open," Annie replied with disbelief. She looked closely at the track in the floor and chuckled a bit under her breath. Stooping down she removed the stick from the track and then pulled the door open.

Once the door was opened Auggie again followed Annie out onto the terrace. Annie crossed to the low stone wall surrounding the terrace and sat on it. Auggie settled in beside her. "What was that all about?" he asked as he sat down.

"I think I know what happened," Annie began sheepishly. "The housekeepers opened the door a bit so the air could circulate in the room and put a stick in the track so that the door couldn't open all the way to let anyone in from the terrace. We may have been on a wild goose chase from the beginning. I'm sorry, Auggie. How long have you been up doing a bug sweep?"

Auggie shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. A while."

"My imagination got the best of me last night," Annie explained, hoping that it might make her husband less angry with her. His comment both surprised and pleased her.

"I would rather look for a bug that was never there, than miss one that is. Even on vacation your instincts are to be vigilant. I'm glad. It goes hand-in-hand with what we do. We can never be too careful." A muffled sound from inside their room had Auggie moving quickly back into the room. He bounced off the foot end of the bed as he honed in on the sound coming from his suitcase. The warbling sound did not stop until he flicked his fingers across the screen. He then held his phone to his ear. "Yes, Joan? … Really? … You want us to do what? … NO! Absolutely not! … Oh. Okay. … I'll tell her. … See you on Monday then." Auggie took the phone from his ear and tapped the screen twice before he returned it to its location in his bag.

"What was that all about?" Annie asked with unabashed curiosity.

"Joan wanted to congratulate us on a job well done. The information you provided last night has been transferred into the hands of the necessary agencies and was one of the final pieces needed to stop the bad guys. She couldn't, or wouldn't, say what you helped stop from coming into the country."

"What were you absolutely not-ing about?"

"Oh, Joan was trying to convince me that you needed to fly off to Moscow today. She was teasing, but she sure made it sound real. What time is it?"

"A bit past 7. Why?"

"I want to go back to bed. And sleep." After crossing the room to the location of the bed, Auggie crawled back in. Annie followed and joined him, but they did not sleep.

# # # # #

It was nearly noon when the newlyweds called for room service brunch. Coffee had been ordered and brought earlier, but food had been the furthest thing from their minds. When the room service cart came Annie answered the knock on the door clad only in the white terrycloth robe the hotel provided; her hair still wrapped in a towel. The server who delivered the cart was the same guy who had delivered coffee, and sometimes food, earlier in the week and usually much earlier in the morning. He almost seemed surprised that Annie was not dressed in street clothes and that Auggie seemed to be in the shower; but he finally smiled an understanding smile and commented, "Late night?"

"More like early morning," Annie replied with a wink and the knowledge that her words could confirm the server's thought that they had been out partying in one of the nightspots or on one of the yachts anchored in the harbor or just outside of it.

"Bon," the server replied with a grin as he presented the ticket to Annie for her to sign. Once she'd handed the signed ticket back to him he asked, "Where would you like the cart, madam?"

Annie pointed to the ornate wrought iron table on the terrace. The server nodded and headed toward the door to the terrace. As Annie let Auggie know that brunch had arrived, the server set the table on the terrace.

As they leisurely ate their ham, cream cheese, or fruit-filled crepes, Annie and Auggie discussed and debated what to do the rest of the day and into the evening. Finally they decided on renting another jet ski and circling the island and exploring its beaches and coves.

Before they departed for the marina Annie generously applied sunscreen to Auggie's back and he to hers and then they finished the rest of their bodies and donned swimsuits on under their shorts and tank tops. Auggie slipped his civilian phone in a waterproof baggie and tucked that into the pocket of his shorts, but left his watch on the dresser.

For the next several hours Annie and Auggie rode the jet ski in a counter-clockwise direction around the island. They stopped once in a while to frolic in the surf or to explore one of the beaches a bit. Annie didn't stray too far out from the shoreline and kept a running commentary on what she saw for Auggie's benefit. At one point, after they'd stopped to play a bit in the water, Annie encouraged Auggie to get on first and take the controls. She was more than a bit surprised when he firmly declined. "Why not, Auggie? I'll be right behind you, and there's nothing around that you could run into."

"It doesn't matter that there's nothing around, Annie. I'm content being the passenger."

They bobbed on the slight swells, engine idling, and Annie turned as much as she could to look at her husband. "Auggie," she began. "Why? Tell me why you want to be content being just a passenger and I'll drop it. I know you're holding something back."

Auggie sighed slightly.

"Auggie, I've accepted that there are some things that you'll never be able to tell me, some things that you would really rather not burden me with knowing, but this one I want to know; to understand. I think it's important for me to know and understand this. I know it's not about trust. You trust me to pilot this thing at top speed into the world you can't see. And you are relaxed about doing so …"

"Annie, I've closed and locked the doors on some activities," he began with a slight grimace. "I don't want to even crack them open. Jet ski and motorcycle are very similar. I don't want to remember how things used to be." A moment of despondency washed over him and then was gone like a receding tide; replaced with one of his easy grins.

"Okay," Annie said understandingly. "I get it. I won't suggest things like this again, but if you ever get to wanting to crack open one of those doors …"

"I'll let you know," he finished for her.

"Fair enough," Annie said as she reached back and squeezed his left hand. Turning back fully to the front Annie twisted the throttle and took off heading on toward the marina in Gustavia. After they got back to the marina and turned in the jet ski to the rental place, they made the short hike up to their hotel. After quick showers and changes of clothes, they hiked back down the hill and found seats in the local hangout Le Select.

As they sat at the table in the front corner eating their fish and chips and drinking beer, Pierre and his crew from the other day sauntered in and joined their buddies in the back corner. A few minutes later he noticed Annie and Auggie and came over to talk to them. He reminded them they still had a cruise left.

"I know," Auggie replied. "Tomorrow night? Weather going to be favorable for that sunset cruise then? It's our last night here."

"Oui," Pierre replied. "Tomorrow evening will be a perfect weather. And that's a fine way to say good-bye to our lovely island. Now what are the two of you doing here? You should be over at Nikkis having a good time there."

"Some place quiet seemed more our speed right now," Annie said by way of explanation. "We've closed down our share of bars, but the people that would be at Nikkis aren't our kind of people."

Pierre laughed and then said, "All the more reason to go and see how the other half play. Sometimes I've been known to go up there just to watch them make fools of themselves. I don't belong either, but that doesn't stop me. It's a fun evening."

"Are you saying that we're not welcome here? Or that you guys aren't fun?" Auggie asked and grinned broadly.

"Oh, no. Not at all," Pierre responded quickly with a bit of embarrassment. "Just letting you know that there's other forms of entertainment here for non-locals; something a bit more exciting that hanging about with a bunch like us."

"When was the last time you were in this Nikkis?" Annie asked with true curiosity.

"A couple of months ago. During 'the season," he air quoted 'the season', "when things really get hoppin'. It's pretty tame this time of year. They never go away, but between the middle of December and the middle of January us locals can hardly move from the outsiders being here. Don't get me wrong, we love that they come, but that time of year is quite busy."

"Ah, the middle of winter in the Northern Hemisphere," Auggie remarked understandingly. "Maybe we'll head up that way later this evening. Right now I'd like to finish my dinner and beer."

Pierre clapped Auggie lightly on the shoulder and headed back across the room to his friends and coworkers.

With fingers slightly curled under Auggie inched his right hand across the space between the edge of the table and the side of his plate. He lifted his hand slightly and scanned the 12 o'clock position of the plate. "Do I have any fries left?" he whispered to Annie.

"No, and only one piece of fish at 8. I'm not going to finish all of mine. I'll share," Annie whispered back.

"More fries would be nice," Auggie said as he pushed his plate toward the center of the table.

Annie put half of her remaining fries on her husband's plate and her last filet, before placing it back in front of her husband. "More fries at 12 and one more piece of fish at 6."

Auggie smiled at his wife as he located a fry and dragged it through what was left of the puddle of ketchup in the center of the plate.

"Were you serious about going to that other pub when we're done here?" Annie asked thoughtfully as she munched on one of her remaining fries.

Auggie shrugged his shoulders a bit as he swallowed the bite of French fry. "Yeah. Sort of. Might be different. Fun. Why not?"

"No reason. Just that you were the one that suggested something local and low key for this evening."

"Can't a guy change his mind?"

"Yeah, I guess a guy can. And they say that women change their mind at the drop of a hat," Annie chided. Auggie simply grinned more broadly as he chewed a bite of fish.

After they'd finished their meal and settled the bill, Annie and Auggie walked the few blocks to the pub that Pierre had mentioned. There were a good number of people on the patio wedged between the building and the water's edge. A few people were dancing on the beach to the European pop music blasting from the DJ's speakers hung from the poles holding the strings of lights that illuminated the sandy beach.

As they entered Annie quickly scanned the main room. At a large table near the back of the room she recognized the Russian tycoon from the night before. There were a few open tables scattered about the room. Annie led Auggie to the open table near the large opening onto the patio. Annie settled Auggie into the seat facing the Russian so that she could sit with her back to him. She could hear what he was saying just fine, but it wouldn't appear to anyone that she might be listening.

Auggie pulled his cane from the front pocket of his cargo shorts and placed it on the table between him and Annie. A puzzled look came over him and he leaned in to Annie, "Is that guy from last night here? Or do my ears deceive me?"

"Your ears do not deceive you. He's here at the table behind me. His back is to me, it's a happy coincidence. Maybe I can gather a bit more intel if he gets drunk enough again and starts spouting off about how smart he is to get things past US Customs."

"Annie," Auggie said with an upward inflection, "we are on our honeymoon. This isn't an op. We're leaving." He began to rise from the seat he'd just taken until Annie placed a hand firmly on his arm.

"But we just got here," Annie semi-whined. "We were here for the fashion show the other day. It's a nice place. There's no models walking around in here tonight. Just the well-heeled partiers."

Auggie closed his eyes and exhaled softly. "Okay. If you want to stay, I don't have a whole lot of choice. It's not like a can just get up and walk out of here."

"Auggie, I'm sorry for putting it that way. If you feel strongly enough that we should go, we'll go," Annie said in a very apologetic tone and placed her hand on her husband's arm again – this time gently.

"It's okay, Annie." Auggie began with a slight grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "I just needed to remind you of a certain fact. I'm willing to stick around for a bit, but when I'm ready to leave, we leave. Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay," Annie replied somewhat distractedly. Behind her the Russian seemed to be arguing with someone on the phone.

Auggie lowered his head and then brought it back upright. "Annie. What's going on? Talk to me."

"Just trying to figure out what kind of beer to order; of if I even want a beer. They have mostly European beers," Annie replied lightly. "And French wines of course."

"Do they have Desperados beer?"

Annie paused a minute and actually scanned the beer and wine list. "Yes, they do. Is that what you'd like?"

"Yeah. I remember that one from the last time I was in Paris."

"It looks like a server has finally noticed us," Annie said. After the male server took their bar order – Desperados bottles for both of them – Annie began to tell Auggie more about what was happening around them – including what the Russian behind her was saying to his table mates.

For the next two hours the newlyweds spent their time much as they would have had they been back in DC and relaxing at Allen's Tavern – they sipped on their beer, Annie people watched and relayed that information on to Auggie and Annie even coaxed Auggie out onto the beach where they danced a bit. Both were completely enjoying themselves until they came in from the beach area just a bit after midnight and the Russian tycoon was standing at his table shouting at his phone. One of the ladies in his party pointed at Annie and Auggie as they approached their table. The tycoon turned, glared at them, and then began shouting again in Russian. Annie kept walking with Auggie on her arm.

As Annie placed Auggie's hand on the back of his chair, he asked her, "Dear what's going on? The mood of this room has turned hostile and someone is shouting. Making a scene are they?"

"Yes," Annie began, "someone is making a scene. And he's glaring at me like I've done something wrong. I wish I understood whatever language he's speaking."

"Do we need to settle our tab and get out of here?" Auggie asked as he pulled his chair out.

"I don't know," Annie replied. "I'm thinking we'll wait a few minutes to see if he calms down before we make that decision." She nonchalantly pulled out her seat and sat.

Once Auggie heard the position of his wife's voice change, he sat down and snaked his right hand, fingers gently curled under, out toward the center of the table. When he'd located his cane he pulled it back toward his body a bit, and then slowly swept his hand across the table top until he once again located his bottle of beer. He picked it up and finished off the little bit of the amber liquid remaining in it.

Annie wrapped her hands around her bottle but did not take a drink, because she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the imposing figure of the Russian tycoon towering over her.

"You are American are you not?" he asked with a thick accent that Annie seemed to struggle to understand.

"American? Yes, my husband and I are from the United States," Annie replied.

"Who are you? Why are you here on this place?" the Russian asked with a surly attitude.

The Russia's attitude had Auggie standing and moving to his wife's side with cane in hand. "My wife and I are here on our honeymoon," Auggie replied calmly. "But what business is that of yours?"

"You weren't sent here to spy on me?"

"How could we be?" Auggie asked raising the hand holding his cane to draw his opponent's attention to the bundled up white carbon fiber sections "And what business is it of yours why we're here?" Auggie drew himself up to his full height and spoke forcefully.

The Russian did not back down but also stood taller. "You have shown up everywhere I've been …"

"It's a small island without that many places to be," Auggie interjected quickly.

"You were at the restaurant last night where I was discussing business and today that business transaction fails …"

Annie said, from her position between the two irate men. "We don't know who you are and don't understand whatever language it is you speak so how could we spy on you?"

"And who or what organization would hire a blind man as a spy?" Auggie added while once again wagging his cane in the other man's face.

The Russian's anger seemed to diffuse a bit, but then he launched into a string of obscenities in Russian aimed directly at Annie. She didn't flinch or in any way acknowledge that she understood what he said but instead looked up at him curiously.

"From the tone of your voice I think you've just said something unkind about me or my husband but what I don't know," Annie said when he'd finished his tirade.

"You really don't understand Russian?" he said to Annie and then looked at Auggie, "And you really can't see?"

"Nope," Annie began, "I speak English and I can get by in French" Annie finished.

"And I don't carry this around for my health. Well, kinda for my health – it keeps me from running into things," Auggie said taking a slight step back.

"I'm sorry," the Russian said. "My deal just fell apart in a way that made me think someone knew intimate details of my business. You were there last night when I was discussing some of those details at dinner. I came to the conclusion that you overheard me and reported to my enemies. May I buy you each a drink by way of apology?"

"How do you feel about accepting a beer from this stranger?" Annie asked as she let Auggie fumble a bit to relocate the chair he'd so recently vacated.

"A beer's a beer," Auggie commented. "If it makes him feel better to buy me a beer I'll drink it."

"Okay," Annie added a moment later. "If my husband will accept a beer from you, so will I."

"Good," the Russian said as he motioned to the server to come to the table. With a thick accent, but in French, the Russian told the server to bring Annie and Auggie fresh beer and put it on his tab.

When the fresh cold bottles of beer arrived, both Annie and Auggie raised theirs in the general direction of their still irritated but somewhat less volatile benefactor. Annie and Auggie spoke of many things as they finished these latest bottles, including if they should leave on Friday or on their scheduled time on Saturday. All they agreed to was to talk to Joan in the morning and see how she wanted them to proceed.

The barkeeper announced the last call and the newlyweds ordered one last round before they headed out to the beach for one more dance. Both were a bit tipsy and danced with abandon - just like the others on the beach. The music had ceased and they were on their way back to their table with Annie in standard sighted guide configuration, when the music began again this time a slower tune. Auggie suggested that they dance one more dance. They had danced but a few bars of the tune when the angry Russian and his pretty young companion cut in. Annie briefly protested and Auggie momentarily panicked, but their words did no good.

As the young Russian woman took Auggie's hands and placed his right on her waist and then took his left in her right she said, in only slightly accented English, "You are either a very good actor or you really are blind." Her tone was soft without a hint of either pity or accusation.

"Who had the doubts?" Auggie asked cautiously.

"Uri, my companion. The one who thinks you and your wife are spying on him."

"Oh. Him again. I guess my bumbling about in the men's room earlier this evening and my reassurance when he confronted us a while ago wasn't enough to convince him, huh?" Auggie said with more than a hint of exasperation.

"Uri lost a lot of money on this failed transaction. He's looking for someone to blame. You and your lovely wife are just very convenient scapegoats. Otherwise he will have to look within his own organization for the traitor." Her words were soft and apologetic.

"I see," Auggie replied. "And what will you tell him we are done dancing. If you call this dancing."

"I will tell him that you don't see. You cannot fake the unfocused eyes you have. I'm sorry." She said the last with a bit of pity.

"What are you sorry about? That I actually am blind? Or that this Uri doubted it?" Auggie asked bitterly.

"A bit of both, but mostly that Uri made me come take you away from your wife for this dance."

The music ended and Auggie took his hand off the woman's waist and stepped out of the dancer's pose, but did not let loose of her hand. "Where's my wife?" he strongly asked.

"Uri has maneuvered her to the other side of the beach. Do you want me to take you to her?"

Auggie thought for a moment. "No. Can you take me back to our table inside?"

"Yes. I think I can do that. You'll have to tell me how to guide you. I've never done that before."

"It's not hard," Auggie stated. "Just walk normally and I'll lightly take your arm and follow you. Leave enough room between you and tables, chairs or people that I don't bump into them."

The young woman gingerly led Auggie back inside the building and to the table. She stopped just a foot or so from the corner of the table. "We're back at your table. Sheesh, I don't even know your name."

"Auggie. People call me Auggie," Auggie said dropping the woman's arm and cautiously taking a step forward while sweeping his right hand in front of him at hip height. Not finding anything he swept his hand out a bit farther. This time he connected with the back of a chair. "Is this where I was sitting?"

"Yes, Auggie. That is where you were sitting. And Uri and your wife are starting back this way. Your wife - she's beautiful by the way - looks ... um ... she looks amused."

"Amused. I guess that's better than angry," Auggie said pulling out the chair and sitting down.

"I'm leaving now," she said touching Auggie's shoulder. "Thank you for the dance. I could tell you are a very good dancer with the right partner."

"Thanks." Auggie inched his right hand out on the tabletop until it connected with the cold bottle of beer. He did not pick that one up, but scanned a bit to the right of it. "Are you still here?" he said a bit louder than a whisper

"Yes. If you're looking for the partial bottle it's to the other side of the full one you just found," the young Russian woman said quietly.

"Thanks. Again."

"You're welcome. I'm really going now." She circled the table and took her place at the other table. Before she'd gotten set down one of the other women began speaking to her in Russian.

A few minutes later Annie sat down. "I'm back," she said as she pulled her chair out. "What's wrong? You look pensive and confused."

"I am. What just happened?"

"Oh. That Russian guy and one of his female companions decided to test us. I guess he still doesn't believe we're not spying on him. He began chattering at me in that language of his like I should understand what he was saying. He's a good enough dancer, but it was not fun to not know what he was saying to me so I could talk to him, too. I just chatted on in English which I thought he might understand. If he answered me I don't know what he said. How was your dance with his lady friend?

"It was okay. At least she talked to me in English," Auggie replied and then finished off the last of the almost warm beer. "She told me that I couldn't fake the way my eyes look, so I guess she believes that I'm really blind. Told me that I dance well. I guess I'd call it a draw. She insulted me, and then complimented me. I guess they even out."

Annie reached out and touched her husband's forearm. "You know that your eyes look okay? You don't need to be all self-conscious about them."

"Yeah. I know that. Guess that's why some people have a hard time believing that I can't see." He took another long gulp from the fresh beer bottle, and then wiped the bit of wetness from his lips with the back of hishand. After pausing for a moment he asked, "Annie? My eyes ... do they really look okay?"

"Auggie," Annie began and patted his arm gently, "we've been over this. You're eyes are fine. What did she say that has you questioning this again? I could kill the bitch ..."

"Annie, don't. She didn't say anything that I haven't heard before - vacant and unfocused," Auggie replied self-consciously.

"Oh, Auggie. Don't do this to yourself. Believe me, from a casual distance your eyes look 'normal'." Annie turned and glanced in the direction of the young Russian woman the next table over. When she caught the other woman's attention she glared at her. This elicited a mouthed 'sorry' from the Russian before she turned to speak to Uri.

Annie and Auggie stuck around long enough to finish those last beers and settle up the bill, which was four bottles shy of the number they'd actually consumed. On the way back to the hotel they strolled slowly, more arm-in-arm than in sighted guide configuration. Annie mentioned to Auggie that the sky was clear and the moon nearly full. And that they seemed to be the only ones out walking.

When he heard that they were alone on the street Auggie's demeanor changed and he began to laugh. Annie looked at him with true curiosity. "Auggie, what has gotten in to you?" she asked as she stopped and turned to face him.

"This evening's gotten in to me," he stated. "I can go back to being me now."

"What do you mean 'go back to being yourself now'?"

"Playing the blind card when Uri confronted us and everything after was an act to hopefully finish selling him on the fact that we couldn't be the ones that ratted him out. How do you think I did? Think he finally believes us?"

"I think you did a superb job. What you said and how you acted after we got back to the table after that last dance had me wondering how much damage control I was going to have to do on your ego."

"I'm sorry about that Annie. I guess that means I did a good job then if I was able to convince you. But remember one thing Annie dear, when the two women I trust above everyone else tell me that my eyes look fine, I believe them. Once in a great while some situations have me almost wishing that they were messed up, but even if they were I wouldn't let it bother me. I'm still me. I'm going to age, probably not gracefully, but there's one thing I'm pretty sure of - that no matter what I look like in the future you will still love me. You love me for me, and not the package that I come in."

"Yeah, you're right. And I'm pretty sure that the same holds true for me - my looks don't matter a whole lot to you either." She grinned broadly for a moment then poked her husband lightly in the belly with the index finger of her right hand, "that our packages are pretty okay certainly doesn't hurt though."

"No, I guess it doesn't," Auggie responded lightly. "And when a woman I trust tells me that the woman I love is beautiful inside and out, and made a beautiful bride, I have to believe her."

"Who told you that?"

"Mom."

"Okay that's one woman you trust. Who's the other one?"

"You, silly. I trust you completely. Just as you know that there are things about my past that I may never be able to tell you about, I understand that there are things in your past and future that I may never be able to know, but I trust that you will always be truthful and honest with me when it counts. That you will not tell me that things are all right when they really aren't."

"Oh, Auggie, that's a given. From you I hope, too."

"Of course." Auggie reached out and ghosted his left hand up his wife's right arm, shoulder, neck, cupped his hand on her cheek and then leaned in for a kiss.

A few moments later they were once again strolling arm-in-arm toward the Carl Gustav hotel. Once there they fell into bed, and well, didn't sleep for a while. They woke mid-morning, called Joan and explained what had happened the night before. Joan advised them to follow their schedule and leave the next morning, but not to make any plans that might again put them in the same place as the Russian tycoon.

Once again they took brunch in their room, did a bit of packing, and strolled around Gustavia in the afternoon. They dined that evening in their hotel's dining room, then grabbed a bottle of champagne and a couple of flutes from the bar and strolled to the marina where Pierre and his boat waited to take them on the sunset into moonlight cruise the most senior Mrs. Anderson had planned for them. The sea was nearly dead calm with barely a ripple on the surface. As the boat sat anchored a few miles offshore, they drank the champagne while Annie, snuggled pleasantly in her husband's side, described the sunset to Auggie. As he had the first night, Auggie closed his eyes as he listened to Annie's description of the sunset he could only see in his mind's eye, but, as he had that first night, Auggie struggled to make sense of what Annie was telling him. Smiling and 'aha-ing' he was content to hold his wife as she enjoyed the cacophony of colors that brilliant sunsets were. Content that was until Annie sat bolt upright and said sternly, "August Anderson, you are lying to me. Last night you promised to never lie to me about personal stuff!"

"Anne Anderson, how can I be lying to you? I haven't said a word in at least half-an-hour."

"You don't have to have said a word to be lying to me. You are sitting there making appropriate comments and smiling contentedly while I'm prattling on about the beauty of a sunset that means absolutely nothing to you."

"What makes you think that a beautiful woman describing an equally lovely sunset doesn't mean anything to me?"

"I just remembered something that you said to me a long time ago that when you're blind you forget things like color and faces ... You are cuddling here with me acting as if you're putting it all together and remembering what a sunset looks like. And you aren't. Can't."

"Oh," Auggie said softly; understanding what Annie meant. "Since you put it like that ... No, I'm not putting your words into any meaningful image in my mind. Yes, I no longer remember what yellow or red, look like. But I do remember what it felt like to see a beautiful sunset or sunrise. I can enjoy - and was enjoying - the appreciation that others have for those events. I was enjoying having you in my arms while you were trying to share something that was giving you great pleasure with me. Even if I might not specifically appreciate what you are describing to me, I don't ever want you to stop doing that. When we have kids I want them to share those things with me too. It makes me feel closer to you, included in the moment. So no, Annie I don't think I was lying to you at all. I was reliving a memory, maybe not the same as you would a memory, but it was good. It was enjoyable."

"Really?" Annie asked as she snuggled back into the crook of her husband's arm.

"Really," Auggie stated emphatically. "Now, continue describing what you see."

"The sun's set. And the moon hasn't yet risen, so it's dark. I think you know dark."

"Yeah, I know dark," Auggie said pulling his wife in a little bit closer.

Pierre came out from the cabin and asked what they wanted to do. Annie asked him to slowly head back toward the marina. As they moved at trawling speed back toward shore and the marina, Annie continued to describe the sky, mentioning the constellations that she knew; how she felt she could reach up and pluck the stars from the sky, and how tiny and insignificant she also felt. And how safe and secure she felt right then with her husband's strong arms wrapped around her.

The next morning, while Annie was in the shower, Auggie took his phone, and a cup of coffee, out onto the terrace and made a phone call. Not to his boss, Joan, this time, but to Annie's sister, Danielle. When Danielle answered Auggie instructed her that he wanted Plan B to be put into effect and gave her the number of the flight they'd be returning to DC upon. Danielle said that she understood and everything would be just as he instructed. She did comment that the rose petals might be a bit hard to clean up though. Auggie replied that he didn't care if he had to be the one to get down on his hands and knees to pick them up, that's what he wanted. Danielle laughed and said it would be done.

When he was done talking to Danielle Auggie settled back in the settee on the terrace and enjoyed his coffee in smug satisfaction.

* * *

><p>If you want to know how the rose petals come in to play - read the next to last chapter in "A New Life?".<p>

There is one more story in the works, but that might be it. And it might not even get posted.


	41. Notice

There is no new chapter right now – a definite 'Happily Ever After' type chapter IS in the works, but two other projects – a new house and a new story – have sort of taken over my interest right now.

This is mostly to alert those with 'Happily Ever After' alerts that a story related to HEA has just been started. It's called 'The Story of the 5 Seconds'. Look for it. It could be told here in HEA, but I've pulled it out into its own domain since it's a good bit different than anything here in HEA.


	42. Breaking Up

**This one had been done for a while before I even thought of 'The Story of the 5 Seconds'. I wasn't happy with it then and only slightly less so now, but was encouraged to post it anyway. It's just another side to Auggie than the one we usually see; than I usually write him. **

**Mandy58 has had her say.**

**Once again I have no connection to the USA Network show Covert Affairs.**

* * *

><p>A few minutes before the appointed hour of 8 AM Annie Walker-Anderson pulled the rented SUV into the drive of the familiar house in Glencoe, Illinois. Beside her sat her husband August "Auggie" Anderson with his arms firmly folded across his chest; just as he had for most of the last two days. His unseeing eyes seemed to bore a hole in the windshield of the vehicle. Auggie did not see why he had been summoned to the breaking up of his parent's household; his mother was gone for a number of years and his father just a few weeks now. They had been here for the funeral and why the will couldn't have been disposed of then Auggie simply did not understand.<p>

Beside Annie's rented GMC Suburban, there were two other vehicles in the drive; and another two parked on the street in front of the house. Three of those had Illinois license tags; one, like the Suburban, had Maryland plates and was obviously a rental. Auggie's testiness and foot-dragging of earlier that morning had made them late to the party. Not that it was going to be much of a party. Reading of wills and going through years of personal possessions and mementos seemed such a maudlin activity on such a bright and sunny April day.

As Annie put the vehicle into park and shut off the ignition, beside her Auggie said testily, "I bet you're actually going to make me go in there, too."

"No, I'm going to let you sit out here all day all alone. By yourself. Of course, I'm going to make you go in. At least go in long enough for the reading of the wills," Annie said back at him in the exasperated tone she'd found herself using much of the last two days. This attitude was so unlike the man she'd married nearly twelve years ago.

"Why," Auggie snapped. "I know what I'm getting. Twenty percent of the house and the investment accounts. There is nothing left in this house that I care about."

"How do you know that there isn't anything that you care about? And aren't you the least bit curious about how much you'll be getting?"

"You know as well as I do that Mom and Dad weren't poor. What I'll inherit will be substantial. I'll invest it and use it to pad our retirement and make sure the kids can go to college if they want. Outside of that I could care less about it all."

Annie opened her door and came around to Auggie's side of the vehicle. After opening his door, since he'd made no move to extract himself from the car, she touched his arm gently. "Are you coming?"

"No."

"Auggie, please."

"Annie, save your breath. I'm not going in there. You go if you feel you must, but I'm staying here." His tone had softened somewhat, but not his stance.

"Very well. I'm going in," Annie replied and loudly closed the car door. Annie moved off toward the porch steps meeting Auggie's older brother Anthony at the back door.

After holding the door for his brother's wife and motioning for her to enter the house, Anthony trudged down the back stairs and to the car where his brother stubbornly sat. When he opened the door his brother visibly bristled.

"I told you I wasn't going in."

"It's Tony, Auggie. Stop being an ass and get out of the car."

"No!"

Anthony closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. "Look, Auggie. We're all here and I can't read the will without you present."

"Yes, you can. I know pretty much what it's going to say. You didn't have to drag me half-way across the country just to hear you tell me what I'm going to get. I know what it's going to say."

"No, Auggie, you don't. Dad could have changed his will in in the last few years, and Mom stipulated that hers not be read until we read Dad's."

"Could have doesn't mean did."

"Damnit, August! You are trying my patience." Anthony placed his right hand on his brother's arm. Auggie tried to shake it off. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Auggie. I'll drag you inside if I have to. Are you going to come willingly?"

"Nope. Tell my wife to come take me home as soon as she's heard what she wants to hear."

Anthony's hand closed around Auggie's wrist and he began to tug strongly on his brother's arm. "C'mon. Be a good boy and come with me,"

The strong pull on his arm threatened to topple Auggie from the car's seat. With apparent acquiescence Auggie unbuckled his seatbelt and then swung his legs out of the car. As soon as he'd taken a step away from the vehicle, Auggie deftly broke his brother's grasp on his wrist and in one smooth move pinned Anthony's right arm behind his back and put Anthony in a choke-hold. "I've told you not to mess with me," Auggie hissed in his brother's ear.

Another set of strong hands began to pull Auggie off his brother. "Let him go, Auggie," Adam said calmly as he tugged on the arm around Anthony's neck. "I knew it was a mistake for Tony to come out and greet the two of you. And, it seems, to get you to come inside."

Reluctantly Auggie loosened his grip on Anthony, and Anthony slipped out of his brother's hold and started toward the house. "Maybe you'll have better luck in getting his stubborn ass inside."

"C'mon, Auggie," Adam said quietly. "This is hard on all of us. None of us really wants to be here, but it's got to be done." When Auggie sighed and lost the combative stance, Adam gently took his brother's hand and began to lead him toward the house. "Steps, you know how many … Door … We're all gathered around the table in the dining room. Your usual seat is waiting for you." Just outside of the entry to the dining room Adam dropped Auggie's hand and whispered, "Annie will be to your left when you take your seat. I'm trusting that you'll not bolt for the door now."

As soon as Auggie plopped into the chair on Annie's right with a resigned sigh, his brothers and their wives sounded off one by one clockwise around the table for his benefit and Annie patted his thigh under the table. Alan was the only one without a female companion.

Closing his eyes and folding his hands on the table in front of him, Auggie tried to block out the sound of Anthony's voice. First Anthony paraphrased the terms and bequeaths in their mother's will. The most revealing, and the item that created the most stir around the table, was Abigail's wish that Auggie, and Annie by association, receive the Spode China service and the Gorham Silver tableware that went with it. Annie shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the bequest was being read. Various items of jewelry were bequeathed to the Anderson women, including a minor piece to Alan's Gina even though she was not officially a part of the family – surprisingly there was no descent among anyone at the table about that. Abigail had her own substantial money and divided it equally among the grandchildren who were living, or were in utero, at the time of the reading of her will – there were ten grandchildren that day.

Once Abigail's will was disposed of, Olivia and Jessica left the table for the kitchen and served either coffee or tea to those assembled. Small plates were distributed and a platter of scones was placed at each end of the table. Annie served one to Auggie then one to herself. For a few minutes the family members engaged in small talk, and nibbled on the pastries. Finally Anthony cleared his throat and picked up the second legal document on the table in front of him.

"We all know why we're here. But before I get down to that, I just want to acknowledge the profound sadness that we all feel; and have felt for the last few weeks. Dad lived a long life; a good and prosperous life. Even though he may have had a few more years if he'd gone through with the sale of the house and gone to the assisted living facility like he and Mom had planned, he was content here and died a happy man. He went doing something that he loved to do – working in his shop making something for one of his grandchildren.

"Contrary to what some of you may think," Anthony directed his gaze at his youngest brother, and Annie leaned over to whisper that fact to Auggie, "being here today in the role of executor of dad's estate does not bring me any pleasure. I'll cut to the chase here – outside of a few bequeaths to his and Mom's favorite charitable institutions, the estate is to be divided equally between each of us boys. The house is to be sold and the proceeds of that sale are to be added to his financial holdings for distribution upon the receipt of those funds. If we can all agree to it, I'd like to divert from that scenario and separate the sale of the house from the division of the other assets. The investment market is hot right now, and I'd like to maximize our shares and distribute that as soon as possible. The reason I want to do that is that the market for this kind of house is slow. It could take a very long time sell it. I don't trust the investment market to stay up that long. I think most of us are adult enough to see the wisdom of doing that."

"I believe that I'm the immature one that would disagree with going against Dad's express wishes," Auggie said evenly as the middle finger of his right hand lifted slightly from its resting position. "I'll be the first to give my approval to do that."

Around the table male voices murmured agreement.

"In that case, I'll break for a few minutes and get the balls rolling to cash out those accounts into an escrow account at Dad's bank for distribution by the end of next week."

"Before you go do that," Austin began, "What's the current market value of the house?"

"I knew someone was going to ask that, so I had an appraiser come in yesterday. In its current condition – some areas are a bit dated even though Dad kept it up pretty well – only around $2,500,000."

Everyone, except Auggie and Austin, moaned with displeasure. That number was okay with Auggie. His share should easily put both his kids through college. And he no longer had an attachment to the house. In the last three years he'd managed to detach himself from it. Without his mother and father here it was just four walls to him, no matter how comfortable and familiar those walls felt.

Beside Annie, Austin sighed thoughtfully. "I'd like to offer to buy everyone's share of the house at current fair market value.

"It's the only home Auggie and I have ever known. I'm not ready to see it leave the family just yet. I know that Auggie isn't about to leave DC, and Alan isn't about to leave the corps, so that leaves one of us. Jenna and I talked about it a bit in the last few weeks – we want the house. Actually I tried to buy it from Dad after Mom died, but he wouldn't sell it to me then. I think maybe he was afraid that I'd put him out if I owned it. I wouldn't have, but … Does anyone have any objections to us buying it at fair market?"

The lack of descent, especially from Anthony, surprised Auggie. It would have been just like Anthony to object simply on principle.

After Anthony left to have a bit of private conversation with the people at the brokerage houses to begin cashing out the investment accounts, Auggie leaned across Annie and spoke to Austin quietly. "Are you sure you can do that, Austin? As much as I'd like to see the house stay in the family –"

"Yes, Augs. I can do this. I know that money doesn't mean as much to you as it does some of the rest of us, but I'm doing very well for myself. I'm a full partner in the firm and that has its perks. I'm doing even better than Tony, but I don't let him know that. I don't flaunt my success like he does. I can easily do this, Augs." Austin placed a hand on top of his brother's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

A short time later, everyone traipsed up to the master bedroom and Anthony opened the safe in the wall in one of the walk-in closets. Each Anderson lady retrieved their bequeathed jewelry and then quietly selected a few meaningful pieces from the better pieces of costume jewelry – necklace, ring or earrings. Once that was done, Anthony picked up a pair of stainless steel cuff links out of one of the black velvet lined trays. He crossed the bedroom to where Auggie sat in one of the side chairs in the bay window. Picking up his brother's left hand, Anthony pressed the cuff links into the palm of Auggie's hand and then closed his fingers around them.

"Dad never said, but I think he'd want you to have these. He had them made after you went to Iraq the last time. He often wore them to those formal events Mom dragged him to."

Auggie raised his head with a questioning look.

"A pair of cuff links with the Special Forces insignia on them. He was so proud of you." Anthony leaned in and whispered so that only Auggie could hear, "I never told you, but I'm proud of you, too. We all are." As he rose he gave his brother's shoulder a quick squeeze.

Auggie picked one of the links up with his right hand and ran the pad of his thumb over the raised insignia. Now was a helluva time to learn his father had truly been proud of him. For much of his life he'd thought he was just the afterthought that wasn't supposed to happen; that his father had just been complying with social morays and going through the motions of being accepting of him and his accomplishments.

Emotion threatened to overcome Auggie and he got up to go be somewhere else. A few steps away from the chair he realized that he had no clear idea of where the door was; he'd come into the room on Annie's arm and she'd settled him into the chair before she went into the closet with the other women. It had been years since he'd been in his parent's bedroom and he was no longer sure of the layout of it. For a few moments he stood frozen; he hated being disoriented, especially in front of his siblings.

"Augs, where do you want to go?" Austin asked softly touching his brother's slightly outstretched hand.

"Outta here."

"What did Tony say to you?" Austin asked with concern.

"Not here," Auggie whispered.

Once the brothers were out in the hall and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, Auggie turned to Austin, "Tony just said that Dad was proud of me and that he wanted me to have these." Auggie opened his tightly fisted hand and held out his palm.

"Yeah. I happened to be with him the day he went to the jeweler to pick those up. Two days later he learned that you'd been blinded. That day and when Mom died are the only two times I've seen him become overtly emotional. He was very proud of the man that you'd become, even more so after you lost your sight. He pulled the house off the market the day after you and Annie went back home after Mom's funeral. You didn't know that did you? You really believed that there'd been no offers on the house."

Auggie shrugged his shoulders, swallowed hard and turned his head to one side.

"Oh my God, Augs," Austin said with alarm, "you've been under the impression all these years that Dad was ashamed of you?"

Auggie hung his head and mouthed, "Yeah."

Austin snatched up his brother's hand and started down the hallway. "You've got to see this, Augs!"

"Where are you dragging me?" Auggie asked as he stumbled after his brother.

"Do you know where we are?" Austin asked when he finally stopped.

"No, not really … Our old room?" Auggie replied after a moment's thought of where his brother might think significant on the bedroom level of the house.

"Yes. We're in our old room. Sometime after you left home, Mom converted it into an artist's studio, that's why she always put you up in the guest room when you came home."

"I never was home long enough to wonder why she wouldn't let me use my old room instead of the guest room. Then I just sort of stopped coming home. Then after I lost my sight it never occurred to me that the décor or uses of other rooms might have changed, because it simply didn't matter anymore."

"I don't know if Annie or your kids have ever been in here, but after Mom died, Dad wouldn't let us do much in here. There's an unfinished picture on the easel. It's of you and one of your Harleys. She painted from photographs. The pictures that aren't of you are from pictures that you took. When we got to looking in here, it got sort of irritating since it was obvious that you were on her mind a lot."

"Oh, here you two are," Annie said as she poked her head in the door. "Is everything okay?" There was a bit of concern in her voice.

"Your husband was on the verge of a meltdown. I'm trying to get his mind on other things. Maybe he'll believe you if you tell him what's in this room; this room that he grew up in."

"It's a painter's studio – your Mom liked to paint and she was quite good at it. A lot of the pictures in here are of you, Auggie. She was working on one of you with your motorcycle when she died."

"Dad wouldn't let us do anything to this room when we were helping him sort out things after Mom died. This room is sort of a shrine to you," Austin explained.

"Not to me. To the child they lost. To their child that could see. Bringing me in here really didn't help, Austin. Not one damn, bit," Auggie stated firmly.

Austin moved to a stack of large canvases leaning against the back wall. After sorting through the paintings for a moment, Austin pulled two from the stack placing one in front of the others and leaning the other against his leg. "Describe these to your husband, Annie."

"One is a fall landscape. There is a blind man with a white cane striding confidentially down a sidewalk – he bears a strong resemblance to you, Augs. The other is sort of a family portrait – waist up likenesses of each of you boys in a semi-circle around portraits of your parents. Your hands are folded over your cane – a common stance for you."

Austin re-stacked those canvases leaving the family portrait on top, and then went to another stack and pulled another canvas. "And now this one."

"It's our family, Auggie – you, me, Chris and Corry. I remember sending her that photo. There was no cane in it. She added in your cane when she painted it."

"See? They're not all from before you lost your sight. We all remember and sort of mourn the loss of that person, but none of us thinks less of you now. It might sound a bit condescending, but a few of us find your life now to be just as amazing as it was before. I remember coming out to DC to help you sort through some stuff just after you were blinded. You were coping, but just barely. Now you are back to the person that you were before that last trip to Iraq – bold, confident – you just do it without seeing what you're doing. We're all proud of you for that."

Annie looked from one brother to the other. "What's going on here?"

"Just a bit of youngest child angst," Austin replied and laughed. "Your husband was surprised when Tony gave him Dad's prized cuff links and told him how proud Dad was of him."

"Auggie, is that true?' Annie asked with concerned surprise.

"I wasn't planned. Always sort of felt unwanted," Auggie answered soberly. Without emotion. Underneath all of the warm feelings he'd gotten from the family all of these years, there had always been that raw undercurrent of being an afterthought; of not being good enough. He'd struggled with that on and off over the years. To now understand it wasn't true …

"We are on the way to the attic to begin claiming and cleaning out," Jessica announced from the doorway. "The waste management company just delivered the dumpster."

"That's what all that racket was a bit ago," Auggie said and finally offered a weak smile. "I thought we were being invaded."

"No, not invaded," Jessica responded lightly. "And Auggie, you cannot have all of the paintings of you that your Mom did. Some of us have staked claim to various ones of them."

"Oh? Which ones?" Auggie asked with genuine curiosity.

"There's one of a blind man walking down a sidewalk. Tony and I want that one. Adam wants the one Mom was working on when she died."

"And I've laid claim to the family portrait. Not your family, but the one of us boys and Mom and Dad. It's going above the mantel in the living room."

"You don't have a fireplace," Jessica responded.

"Not currently, but there's one here," Austin remarked pointedly.

"You really think you're going to own this house?" Jessica asked derisively.

"Yes, I do," Austin stated confidently.

Before Jessica could respond again, Auggie spoke, "Okay. We have been summoned to the attic. Let's all go up there and see what we can find to embarrass me with up there."

For the next hour or so Auggie sat on a storage tote near the head of the stairs into the attic. He didn't mind not participating in the rummaging through nearly fifty years of stored stuff in his parent's attic in the least. It gave him time to wrap his head around a few things and listening to the "Oh's" and "Ah's" and the 'So that's where that got off to's more than made up for not being able to dig into the boxes of cast-off household and personal goods. A few times he played the role of arbiter as two siblings laid claim to the same item.

The eight adults open boxes and bags full of goodies with such concentration that they weren't aware of subtle sounds coming from the lowest level of the house, but Auggie was. "Hey," he said softly to the first person that came near. "There's something going on downstairs."

"I bet that's Cody and Lindsey," Adam began, "They said they'd bring some food in for us around 12:30. And it's just that now. Hey, everyone," Adam said loudly, "I believe it's time we broke for a bit of lunch. Auggie says there's noise coming from downstairs. I'm reasonably sure that it's Cody with some food."

Slowly everyone got up from where they were sitting and filed back down to the dining room. On the sideboard were trays of deli sandwiches, a variety of individual sized bags of chips, a platter of different kinds of cookies and stacks of paper plates and paper napkins. In the kitchen was a cooler of canned and bottled soft drinks, tea and water.

After the all too brief break, the assemblage returned to the attic. The first task was to remove the already sorted through items to the dumpster or to one of their vehicles to take home. That task took several trips and surprisingly longer than anyone anticipated, but they were soon back at sorting through items closer to the front stairs. A short time into the sorting Alan drug an olive green canvas duffel bag to the area in front of Auggie.

"I think I just came across your service duffel, Auggie," Alan said as he noisily plopped the stuffed bag in front of his brother. "You want help going through it? Or are you just going to take it home to look through later?"

Auggie reached out and felt the canvas bag. "Not mine."

"How do you know?" Alan countered.

"Several reasons. First this one is older than mine would be. And second, when Mom was out East helping me go through stuff before I left my apartment and moved into our first condo, I told her to take mine to the dumpster. I –"

Annie sat on the box beside Auggie, giving him a butt check to tell him to scoot over and give her some room. "It might be, honey. I helped her ship it back here when she left. I wasn't supposed to tell you, and then forgot all about her doing that until just now."

"Oh. I should have known she'd do something like that even though there was nothing of use to me anymore in it."

Unzipping the bag Auggie scanned the item on top. "This isn't my dress uniform. Wrong fabric for mine. … Wait a minute … We didn't bury Dad in his uniform did we?"

"No, We couldn't find it in the closet; or cedar chest downstairs. Never thought to look up here," Adam remarked.

"I feel wings," Auggie said and withdrew his hand. "I bet this is Dad's duffel bag. Somebody else can look in it."

As everyone crowded around as Adam pulled the elder Anderson's dress uniform out of the old canvas bag. Spreading the jacket on his lap, Adam asked, "Anyone know what these are for?"

"Are what for?" Auggie asked pointedly. Annie ran her hand up and down his thigh a few times ending with a soft pat.

"His awards and ribbons, Auggie," Alan explained. "I don't know what each is for, but they represent individual and unit awards, some show what battles or wars he fought in. I do recognize the one that says he served in Vietnam. Ohmygod," Alan exclaimed after a moment of looking at his father's uniform jacket.

"What, Alan?" Auggie asked expectantly

"Dad only has three medals, but what medals they are. Purple Heart of course, with two clusters. That means he was wounded a total of three times," Alan added looking around at the others, "He also has a Bronze Star, but what just blew my mind was the Distinguished Flying Cross. He really must have done something spectacular to earn that."

"Yeah," Auggie said leaning forward a bit and reaching out for the bag. "What else is in there?"

Adam batted Auggie's hands away. "Another uniform that looks like it's for every day," Adam said as he took the garment out and laid it on the floor beside him.

"Flight suit, Auggie," Alan offered.

"Does anyone know where his service record and discharge papers are? Were they in the safe?" Auggie asked eagerly. "The service record would say what his awards and medals are for."

"His discharge documents were in the safe, but I didn't see anything in there that looked like service records."

"Oh," Auggie said with disappointment clear in his tone and body language.

For the next few minutes Adam continued to pull garments and other items from the olive drab canvas bag. Near the bottom were two old cigar boxes. One was full of letters, and a few photographs, sent by Abigail Anderson to her pilot husband. The other was full of letters sent from Major Alfred Anderson to his wife and children. The letters were passed around and skimmed by the family. Everyone was struck by the profound loneliness express by one for the other; and by the deep affection expressed – both for the other spouse and Alfred for his two boys. Even though it offered another glimpse at their parents or parents-in-law, everyone felt a bit of discomfort in reading the intimacies expressed between husband and wife.

In the very bottom of the duffel bag was a scrapbook, obviously put together by Abigail, chronicling the life events that her deployed husband was missing – important or amusing things from the community, pictures of milestones missed in the lives of his two boys, a few positive headlines and articles from the newspaper about the war 'over there', and then near the back of the book their father's service record. Adam handed it over to Alan. "Can you tell us what this stuff means?"

Alan looked the pages over for a few minutes and then gave a low, "Whew" of astonishment.

"What, Alan?" Anthony asked with a bit of concern.

"We're lucky that Dad made it back alive and in one piece. Well, first off he was top of his class in flight school – twice. Once for the helicopters and once for the B-52s he flew his last tour. In the choppers he flew hundreds of flights to rescue downed pilots or troops caught behind enemy lines; was wounded three times doing that. He received the Distinguished Flying Cross for piloting one of two choppers that flew five times behind enemy lines to bring out a bit over 100 men – alive – who were facing insurmountable odds. Dad flew an unarmed chopper doing that. That was just a few days before his second tour was done and he was sent back stateside to learn how to fly the B-52s. With the action he saw, it's no wonder that he didn't want to talk about it."

"Not to take away from your father's accomplishments, but do you all know that your youngest brother also has a Bronze Star?" Annie advised with a bit of pride in her tone.

"Annie," Auggie responded in an exasperated tone. "I didn't deserve mine; I didn't save anyone. Quite the contrary, I lost my men. All of them."

"But you ran INTO the danger area to try and warn your team. That's what counts, Auggie. And the fact that you wound up blind because of it –"

"Annie, you are embarrassing me now. People don't need to know those things."

"Yes, we do," Adam's wife Olivia interjected sternly. "Two heroes in the family –"

"I'm no goddamned hero. I didn't save anyone. They all died because I didn't get there in time," Auggie shouted.

"Calm down, Auggie," Alan said from where he sat to his brother's left and touched Auggie on the knee. "It's okay. You may not feel like a hero, but your superiors apparently did."

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't know you still felt so strongly about that. I won't bring it up again," Annie said apologetically.

"Too late, the damage is done," Auggie replied with rancor. He moved to stand up so he could leave.

"Sit down, Augs," Austin commanded. "We still have a lot of stuff to go through. Even though you're upset, we're gonna need you around to settle the disputes that are bound to come up now that we're getting into less ancient stuff."

Auggie reluctantly remained where he was seated. Everyone else went back to the section of the attic they were working on. Every scrap of paper was examined and most found its way into the dumpster along with the broken-beyond-repair pieces of furniture and old small appliances. There were many comments about the wisdom of holding on to some of the items encountered. Many items were set aside to be taken to the charity resale shop, but much went into the dumpster. They were about half done with the attic when Adam called a halt to the sorting and discarding.

Annie and Auggie joined Austin and Jenna at their house for dinner before heading to the hotel they'd decided to stay in rather than with one of Auggie's brothers. During dinner talk turned to Austin's success in business, and of Auggie's continued contentment in what he did even though it didn't bring in the kind of money his brothers did.

In the morning, Annie and Auggie returned for another day of sorting through a lifetime of other people's memories. The morning was spent finishing clearing out the attic without any more surprise finds; in the afternoon they descended to the basement storage area. Adam took the array of boxes down from the wooden shelves his father had built soon after he'd purchased the house. The Christmas decorations; the decorations for the other seasons; assorted pieces of sporting equipment long ago left behind by the five boys. Everyone selected something from the boxes of decorations. Everyone except Auggie. When offered a chance to take one, or more, or the decorations he simply shook his head 'No.'

"Why not, Auggie?" Olivia asked sitting on a storage tote beside the one that Auggie sat upon. "There's got to be at least one that had meaning for you when you were growing up. Describe it – them – to me and I'll find it for you. You need something to pass down to your kids."

Auggie shrugged his shoulders slightly and snorted a brief laugh. "I don't know if it still exists, but the only things that stand out in my mind are a Christmas ornament of a teddy bear – or something like that – on a rocking horse; and a ceramic leprechaun sitting on a black pot full of gold coins. The ornament was fairly small, the ceramic thing sort of big."

"I remember both of them," Olivia said pulling one of the boxes of discarded ornaments to her. She rummaged through it for a moment, pushed it aside and pulled another one over; she searched through it for a moment before a pleased smile came to her. After pulling a small white box from the larger red and green plastic container, Olivia opened it and withdrew the teddy bear on a rocking horse ornament. "Hand," she commanded gently; Auggie extended his right hand toward his sister-in-law with the palm up. Olivia placed the ornament in her brother-in-laws outstretched hand. "There's five of them. This is the teddy bear one. There's also a floppy brown dog, a girl doll in a pink dress, a red and black toy soldier, and an elf in green. I think you should take them all."

Auggie closed his hand around the ornament and then shifted it to his left hand before examining it with the fingers on his right hand. "Yeah, this is it. I think anyway. Five of them you say?"

"They're not so tiny. About an inch-and-a-half long by a bit more than that tall for the toy soldier. Yes, five of them."

After examining the ornament thoroughly, Auggie handed it back to Olivia who tucked it back into the tissue paper.

"I'm handing the box they're in to Annie so she can put it with the other things you're taking back to DC. I hate to tell you but the pot of gold leprechaun broke a few years ago."

"That's okay. It was kind of a silly thing to have a memory of," Auggie said a bit disappointedly.

"Memories aren't stilly, Auggie. For some reason you attached a meaning to that leprechaun. You just don't have the physical object to help you remember that good feeling."

"Yeah, I still have the memory," Auggie responded brightly.

No one laid claim to any of the sporting equipment and those items were relegated to the growing donation pile. Then the attention turned to a large green and black wooden trunk that had been under all of the boxes of seasonal ornaments. The hasp on the trunk had no lock so Adam flipped it up and opened the top. Inside was an 8½ by 11 sheet of white paper with bold black marker writing on it – 'Property of August D. Anderson.'

"Auggie," Adam began, "you need to come in here. Mom's note on top says this trunk and the contents belong to you."

"What has Mom saved now?" Auggie asked from where he sat. He made no move to go into the storage room.

"I don't know, Auggie. There's a heavy Army issued blanket tucked on top of whatever is in a very large, very old wooden trunk. Are you going to come in here and go through it? Or do Tony and I just haul this thing out and put it in the back of that big Suburban you brought?"

Auggie huffed indignantly and then said, "Just look inside the damn trunk and tell me what's in it. Okay? You all are going to want to know what's in it anyway. I doubt there's anything in it I want to take back to DC."

"Okay. Don't blame me if whatever I haul out of here embarrasses you," Adam replied half-joking.

"I doubt that anything that's in there will embarrass me more than my lovely bride did yesterday without half trying."

To Auggie's left Annie sighed in frustration, but didn't say a word.

"That was something we needed to know, Augs," Austin said from across the room. "You always were secretive about stuff."

"Had to be to survive living with you all for brothers," Auggie said pointedly.

"Can it," Olivia said authoritatively. "Get on with it Adam."

"Yes, dear," Adam replied and pulled the blanket off the top of the items in the trunk. "Oh. There's one of those vacuum sealed bags with your dress uniform in it. My god, Auggie, you've got almost as many awards and medals as Dad."

In the outer room Auggie hung his head a bit. "Yeah, I imagine I do. And I'm sure that Alan has even more than me. What else did Mom save that I told her not to?"

"Well, this appears to be your Baby Book; there's a scrapbook with class pictures from kindergarten through junior high; two more scrapbooks of you during various stages of your life until you left for the service; and in the bottom of this trunk are every award and trophy you ever acquired. There's a few odd boxes of papers and things, but that's the bulk of what's in here."

"Okay, put It all back in there and take the whole thing straight out to the dumpster. Nothing in it means anything to me anymore. I'm no longer that person."

"Auggie, don't," Olivia said.

"Don't worry, Livvie, I'm not going to let him do that," Annie stated. Then she turned to her husband. "You may no longer be that person, but you once were. Now that I know that these things exist, I want our children to know the person that you once were. Their father is a pretty amazing man, and I want them to know how he came to be the person he is today. Those things are going home with us."

Austin went into the storage room and picked one of the trophies up from the bottom of the trunk and went to his youngest brother. Squatting down in front of his brother Austin gently guided his brother's hand to the top of the trophy. "Do you know which one of your many trophies this one is?"

With his right hand Auggie began to trace the outline of the standing figure of one wrestler taking down another. Auggie's brow furrowed and he cocked his head to one side, deep in concentration he brought his left hand to the top of the figure and used both hands to decipher the configuration of the top, and then the base of the trophy. Finally he asked, "Is this the one I got for the state championship senior year?"

"Yes, it is. I remember how proud you were that you'd won again for the second year in a row. You can't tell me that there's not still a part of you that isn't proud of that," Austin said in a confidential tone.

"Yeah, a little bit," Auggie reluctantly admitted. "It's not every jock that can graduate with high honor."

"He seemed to be very pleased about that little detail when he told me about it while we were dating," Annie added.

"We weren't quite dating then," Auggie reminded. "We were just sort of hanging out at the same place and comparing notes on how we got to where we were in our careers."

"Well, he told you about that anyway," Austin remarked. "That's the main thing with him – he told you about himself."

"Yeah, I told her. Okay, Annie, I'll let you take them back to DC. You can even tell our kids what a nerd I was." Auggie smiled weakly in his wife's direction.

Adam and Alan repacked and then took the trunk upstairs with the rest of the stuff that Auggie and Annie were taking away from the house.

The rest of that day and part of the next were spent in going through the house, garage and workshop. Once everyone had taken what they wanted, they agreed to estate sale the remainder and split the proceeds. After the three other Anderson women, with Auggie's help, packed the china service into the packing boxes that Jessica had brought from a moving company, Annie stood beside the large assemblage of boxes, painted canvases, and the trunk and remarked, "I know all of this stuff is not going to all fit in the back of that huge vehicle. How are we going to get it all back home?"

From where he sat in the breakfast room sipping a beer Auggie offered his solution, "You could take that huge old trunk to the dumpster like I wanted, then you'd have room." He grinned broadly and lifted the bottle to his lips.

"I'll make sure that trunk and a few of those large canvases get shipped out to you, Annie," Anthony offered.

In the breakfast room Auggie huffed exasperatedly and then said with a shake of his head, "Leave it to Tony to come up with a solution guaranteed to cause me grief. You're bound and determined now that the trunk is going to DC aren't you?"

"Of course, that's what I do best – give my baby brother grief," Anthony pronounced and then added quickly, "The cost will be coming out of your share of the estate sale. You know that don't you?"

"I figured as much," Auggie said. "You never would do anything for me out of the kindness of your heart."

The two men, Anthony and Auggie, bantered back and forth good-naturedly for a bit and then with a bit of hostility between them rising until Adam intervened. Adam set Anthony and Alan to taking the boxes of the china service out to the Suburban. Jessica, Anthony's wife, took to supervising the packing of the fragile boxes into the SUV while Annie calmed her husband down. That wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be. He seemed to have enjoyed bringing out the worst in his older brother.

Once the boxes with the fragile things, and a few other things that would fit, were in the back of the Suburban, Anthony, Alan, and Jessica joined the others in the dining room around the table. Drinks were waiting for them when they pulled their chairs up to the table – white wine for Jessica, and the other women, and their dad's best single malt for the men. Auggie sat in his customary spot with both hands loosely surrounding the cut glass rocks glass.

"Well," Adam began, "this is the last time we'll be gathered around this table in this house. Here's to the memories of the good times we had here and around this table." He lifted his glass toward the center of the table. The others, including Auggie, did the same. After the libations were finished, the different couples slowly, reluctantly, began to make their ways to their respective vehicles.

Anthony was the last to leave the house. After he'd closed and locked the back door, he joined his siblings standing around the GMC Suburban with the Maryland plates; its doors were open but neither Annie nor Auggie had yet climbed in. Auggie was leaning against the vehicle engaged in animated conversation with Alan. The two men were reminiscing about childhood exploits and the way that their parents had dealt with the situations – if indeed they'd tracked down the culprit in the broken, or mislaid, item. When it was clear that no one was in a hurry to leave, Adam popped open the trunk of his car and opened a cooler in it. All of the men, Annie and Olivia, grabbed ice cold bottles of beer. The Anderson boys stood around for another hour, sipping their beer and remembering the good times they'd had as children and young adults in the house and with their parents on family vacations.

Finally Adam intervened, "Look guys, Auggie and Alan have long trips ahead of them and we could go on all night with this reminiscing. The house, apparently, isn't leaving the family. We can do this the next time we're together. Labor Day weekend? Does that work for everyone?"

Everyone shrugged shoulders, but nodded agreement also.

"Okay. We'll try for Labor Day. Begin a new tradition for our children."

"And grandchildren," Auggie interjected. "Some of you have grandchildren. Or soon will. It will be a while before Annie and I join you in that milestone. But it is somewhat odd to know that my oldest brother is a grandfather while I still have young children."

Adam laughed. And Olivia giggled. "I've got fifteen years on you, little brother, and I had children in my early twenties while you waited until your thirties. I'm sure that you'll know the joy of spoiling your grandchildren and then handing them back to their parents before you and Annie are old and feeble." He clapped his youngest brother on the back.

"I probably will," Auggie admitted, "but I'm not going to see great-grandchildren like our parents did. Like you probably will Adam."

"You seem rather more pensive than usual, Auggie," Alan said. "Regretful?"

"No, not regretful. Ah, maybe a bit, but …" Auggie gestured at his eyes, "there's so many things that I'll never see – metaphorically speaking – and grandchildren might not even be in our future simply because of the life our children choose to lead. Would I like grandchildren? Yeah, I think I would; but I'm not going to expect my children to go forth and procreate. The world is changing. I know every generation questions the wisdom of bring off-spring into the world in which they live. Our children might be in the handful of people who choose not to do so in theirs. I don't know what the future holds any more than anyone else does. What happens happens."

"When did you turn into a philosopher?" Anthony asked and took a few steps towards his brother.

As Anthony warmly embraced him, Auggie said quietly, "With you all for brothers –" He let his voice trail off as he returned his brother's hug. The brother's separated and Auggie moved toward the passenger side door. "Annie. I think it's time we got out of here."

"Yeah. We need to get through Chicago proper before we stop for the night or start our super early in the morning. Rush hour should be over by now, so we do need to hit the road."

Good-byes were said all around as Annie climbed behind the wheel and Auggie slid into the passenger seat. Within moments she had the engine started and was maneuvering the heavily laden vehicle out of the drive and onto the street. They rode in silence for a few miles and then Annie spoke to Auggie. "Now these last few days weren't really all that bad were they?"

"I'm still not completely happy with you for making me come. And it may take me a while to get over you telling them about my medals, but on the whole I guess I'm glad that we came. I am happy that we were here together though. I would have been a whole lot harder if you hadn't been with me." He sighed deeply, pensively and said, "Love them or hate them, family is family."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Comment?<strong>


	43. The Next Generation?

**Here's a bonus for my loyal followrs - a second post this week!**

**This is a story set post 'The Story of the 5 Seconds.' Since it is post wedded Annie and Auggie, I've deliberetly chosen to chapter it here in 'Happily Ever After' instead of as a one-shot sequel to 'The Story of the 5 Seconds'. Might be a mistake, but it's mine to make. LOL! This may, or may not, be the last chapter with '5 Seconds' references. But I will warn you before you start to read if any others are post '5 Seconds' family dynamics.**

**Both fbobs and Mandy58 have had a finger in this one, too. I thank them.**

**I have no affiliation with the current 'Covert Affairs'. I just like imagining the characters Chris Ord and Matt Corman have developed in a differnt world than theirs**

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><p>Anne Catherine Walker-Anderson looked up from the trashy romance novel she was reading on the back deck of her in-laws suburban Chicago home. She and her husband, August – also known as Auggie to his friends and family – were there on the long weekend surrounding Memorial Day. Getting together this weekend had been a family tradition for years; and earlier that month they'd also celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary. In the yard she saw her father-in-law, Alfred, playing with her eighteen-month-old son, Christopher. She had been a bit apprehensive about flying from DC to Chicago O'Hare with the toddler, but everything had gone very smoothly; they'd chosen a flight that coincided with her son's normal naptime and he'd slept for most of the flight.<p>

Christopher seemed to be enjoying riding the ancient wooden locomotive that his grandfather had built around the back yard. The colorfully painted engine was beginning to show its age but Christopher didn't care; he was laughing and babbling as his little baby legs propelled him around the flagstone patio. To Annie's right the patio doors opened and her mother-in-law, Abigail, came out onto the deck carrying a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and several glasses full of ice. Abigail placed the laden tray on the glass-topped table and then sat down. Behind her, Alexis, her twenty-year-old granddaughter, closed the screen door and then sat beside Abigail.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Abigail announced loudly.

"Who would that be, Mom?" Auggie asked as he rose from where he'd been sitting on the steps and turned to climb them.

Annie looked toward her mother-in-law and smiled. "Good afternoon, Lexi! So nice to see you."

"Nice to see you, too, Aunt Annie; Uncle Auggie," Alexis welcomed as she quietly observed her uncle cross the deck, locate and then sit in the seat across the table from her.

"Hi, Lexi. Is there tea? I thought I heard the clink of ice in glasses," Auggie said eagerly.

"Yes, there's tea," Alexis said as she picked up the pitcher and a glass. After pouring her uncle a glass she slid the glass across the table until it bumped into her uncle's hand. "There you go Uncle Auggie," she said as he reacted to the object against his hand.

Auggie flashed his niece a sincere smile. "Thanks."

Annie marked her place in the book, put it down and came over to the table also. She accepted the offered glass from her mother-in-law. "Thanks, Mom. Just what this afternoon calls for. I'm anticipating that the rest of the hoard will be here soon?"

"I really wouldn't know about that, Aunt Annie. I came over on my own. I want to talk to you – and maybe Uncle Auggie – about something. I'm sorry Nana, but is there somewhere the three of us could go and have some privacy?"

Both Annie and Auggie turned their heads toward Alexis with surprised looks on their faces.

"You could go into the living room and pull the door closed. Papa and I will take care of Chris out here or in the family room while you three talk. I won't even ask what this is all about."

Alexis smiled shyly at her grandmother and then looked expectantly at her aunt.

"Is this girl stuff?" Auggie asked after taking a long drink of his tea.

"No. Not really girl stuff," Alexis replied thoughtfully. "I have a career decision to make and would like some fresh ideas on what to do. When I heard that you guys were definitely coming this weekend I knew that you'd have some ideas on the subject."

Annie looked pensive and said, "What kind of career decision, Lexi? Are you struggling in school or something?"

"No. Far from it. Can we go somewhere less public so I can tell you what's really going on? Sorry Nana."

"It's okay. You three go on with your private talk. I'll keep everyone occupied out here until you get back," Abigail said in an understanding tone.

Auggie was the first to rise from the table and head toward the house. The two women quickly followed and Alexis hurried ahead to open the door for her uncle and aunt. A few minutes later the three were settled comfortably in the formal living room with the sliding glass panel doors securely closed.

"Okay, what's this all about?" Auggie said leaning forward toward Alexis and speaking in a confidential tone.

"I've been approached by a recruiter from a particular government agency. They said I'd be a good asset to their program. I don't know what to do. It's something that I considered doing, but not seriously. I'm an international political science major looking to go into law." Even though the doors were closed Alexis spoke quietly. With a bit of urgency.

"What agency is this?" Annie asked in the same hushed tones the others had been using. A chill of premonition passed down her spine.

"The same one that the two of you work for," Alexis calmly said. "The CIA."

Both Annie and Auggie sat quietly for several moments before Alexis continued. Beside her Annie felt Auggie's muscles tense ever so slightly. She reached over and gave his hand an understanding squeeze. "I know that you have to deny it, but the truth is none of us believe either of you work where you say you do and we haven't since that weekend a few years back. We don't talk about it even among ourselves; we never mention it to anyone. None of us would ever do anything to put you two in danger. We love you both to pieces. We let you think that we don't know, because that's the way you seem to want to have it, but after those incidents here where you saved all of us Aunt Annie; it was pretty hard not to consider that the two of you were keeping your real jobs from us. Now that you have Christopher, I'm pretty sure that you," she looked pointedly at her aunt, "are tied to a desk in Langley. I'm sorry Uncle Auggie, but I think that you've probably been pretty much deskbound since you came back from Iraq. I don't see you as a regular field agent since then. Maybe a few times when you and Aunt Annie were supposedly on vacation, but …"

Auggie raised a hand to silence his niece. Annie interjected, "Auggie, would you let Alexis and I have some one-on-one time?"

"Anne," Auggie said in a cautionary tone.

"It's okay, dear," Annie said as she patted her husband on the knee. "Please let us have some time alone?"

With a resigned sigh Auggie rose and left the room making sure the doors were securely closed behind him.

Alexis looked expectantly at Annie.

"I will not speak for your uncle, but yes, I'm a covert officer for the CIA. That's all I'll say. I cannot tell you anything specific, but I can answer questions about the way of life of a covert field agent. Lexi, it is not a job, it is not a career, it's a way of life. It's a commitment. It's not an easy one, and sometimes it's the hardest thing you can do."

"Why do you do it, Aunt Annie? What drew you to the life?"

"The reasons I chose to join are not relevant. But when I was single I really loved the lifestyle and I was good at it. I'm just going to tell you a few things and then let you ask anything that I might have missed.

"Working for the CIA isn't at all like they show in the movies or on TV. There can be moments of excitement, but there are many more moments of boredom. You can be sent somewhere for days, or weeks, and spend most of your time waiting in your hotel room for someone to signal you for a meeting. Sometimes that signal never comes. I've been to some of the most beautiful cities in the world and only seen the inside of a hotel room, the airport and the route to it.

"Duplicity is the name of the game. I'm being straight with you now, but in my life, with everybody except your Uncle Auggie, lying is as natural as breathing. Few people can know what you are doing, and that includes most of your co-workers at the agency, and you have to lie to everyone else, and keep it straight, for years. And keeping secrets can be a great burden at times. Sometimes you just have to trust in someone, but you can't.

"I work for the Smithsonian – that's my NOC, my non-official cover. When I went out I traveled as a Smithsonian employee as much as I traveled using an alias. I had to study and master the field just like it was my everyday job. I filed two tax returns. At any time I could be grilled by academic experts in the field and I had to hold my own or be at risk with a blown cover. I really am qualified to be in acquisitions at the Smithsonian. I have to be or I couldn't have maintained the cover for so many years."

Alexis looked at her with wide-open eyes and asked, "Your real expertise is languages, right? You can converse in how many languages?"

"Eighteen. I'm indistinguishable from a native in 6, the other dozen, or so, I get by but they know I'm not a native. But that's not my real expertise."

"You read, write and speak eighteen languages and that isn't your real expertise? That's more expertise than anyone else I know. What could you possibly do that's better than that?"

"Lie. Act. Convince someone I'm something other than what I really am. There are times in the field where you deceive or die. Lie or die. And you can't blink. Especially when you are my size, your best weapon is your brain, your wits, your ability to deceive and be utterly convincing to someone who is already half committed to wanting you dead anyway just because they are evil. You have to live the lie completely, and at the same time continuously evaluate the true situation so your actions don't compromise whatever is most important for the mission at the moment."

"You mean so you don't compromise your safety?"

"No, so you don't compromise the mission. That is where the notion of sacrifice comes into play. Soldiers put their lives on the line for their country. Your Uncle Auggie went in harm's way; he put his safety below the mission priority every time he left his home base. Your Uncle Alan still does. Covert Officers do the same thing. The Agency has protocols that are followed, but nothing guarantees your safety. Your best weapon is your brain, the ability to anticipate and avoid situations that could compromise your cover, and still complete the mission. Sometimes, the only way to complete the mission, a mission that's worth it, is to take risks. At times like that, it's all out there, but if you are cut out for it, you won't feel it till it's over."

"Won't feel what, Aunt Annie? I'm not following you." Alexis wore a look of total confusion.

"When I killed those three hoodlums in the foyer of this house, right outside that door," Annie nodded toward the glassed pocket doors a few feet away, "I just reacted. I didn't think about the danger to me, I went for them with every fiber of my being. It's not a particularly good example, but it's one of only two I can talk about, the other was the big guy in the back yard the next day. A mission can be like that, there's a moment when it's all on the line, a moment when it's going to succeed or fail based on what you do in the next few seconds; or fractions of a second. It may be having the exact right expression on your face, the perfect body language to sell your deception, the perfect words to convince an asset to betray his or her country, family, friends, or spouse."

"I hadn't thought about it like that." The earlier look of confusion lessened.

"Alexis, the job description is, distilled to its essential element, manipulating people for information. Everything else, languages, deception skills, NOC, martial arts, skill with firearms and knives, is to support and survive that activity."

"Okay, when you put it like that, manipulating people for information, I can understand that. That sounds more achievable than being superwoman. I think I could do that. At least to the extent I get to set the context in which I operate. I'd get to pick my NOC, work at that, within that. But to succeed you have to show up with no history other than what you bring to the mission, right?"

"Yes. Exactly. That's why I have been such a publicity phobe all these years. When one works for the CIA one has to stay well below anyone's radar. Anonymity is a must. It is the cloak that hides your history so you bring to the mission that which serves you best without fear of being contradicted by a newspaper article. You can't do things that might get you noticed. No pictures in the paper.

"Remember when your uncle and I got married? There were no engagement or wedding photos in the paper. That's why we couldn't be mentioned or our photos in the media that 4th of July when those hoodlums invaded us. Why your Uncle Auggie got so upset with you for confirming to the martial arts instructor that it was me that stopped them. That could have been the end of my career with the agency. You can do stuff, just not well enough that attention could be called to you. I competed in martial arts tournaments but never won. I competed in simulated combat competition with handguns, but always took care to finish someplace in the last third of the field. I ran in 5K and 10K events but made sure I finished in the middle or bottom third of the field. Something as simple as a traffic ticket could be your undoing."

"Wow. I had no idea." Alexis paused looking at her Aunt. Then she said, "Aunt Annie, I've looked up to you as the most awesome woman I've ever known for years, and it turns out … I've just learned I had no idea at all how extraordinary you really are. I didn't even know what I saw five years ago – which I still can't duplicate – was way less than the tip of the iceberg. I don't see how I can compete with that, how I can be that good, but I want to be. I don't aspire to be exactly like you – that's not possible even if I only consider languages – but I want to be doing something as noble as you do." Alexis paused, and then asked, "Is it worth it?"

Annie thought for a moment; considered her answer and then said, "I've asked that question over and over as I learned more and more and got into tougher and tougher missions. The answer for me was yes. But the answer is intensely personal. What made it worth it for me may not make it worth it for you. It's a way of life where you go way beyond the stakes of a normal career, normal job. In business, you might face situations where you 'bet your job'. As a spy, you bet your life. There is a level of intensity to those moments; a level of living life on the pinnacle of all you can be that makes it worthwhile for me.

"The other side of it is how ugly it can be if you fail. That's the difference between life as a covert officer and a 'job'."

"Aunt Annie, if you wanted to write a commercial you couldn't have said anything that would make me want to do it more than what you've just said." Alexis shifted her position, sitting forward on the chair, and asked, "What can I do to enhance my chances of getting into the program and through training?"

"I know you've been taking the Krav Maga classes even while you are in college. I know you've been running cross-country. You are in great physical shape, and you need to maintain that and pass rigorous physical training to get in and to stay in the CIA. Even the desk jockeys. Keep that up.

"Take some acting classes. Much of being a spy is being able to convince the world you are something else. It's acting at the highest level with the highest stakes. They have deception training at the farm, but you really need to understand the mechanics of acting.

"Get into performance driving, gymkhana competitions. Learn to drive a car through spins, skids, and all sorts of tire destroying maneuvers. Learn to do it in a common car, not a race car or a competition car. A Ford Focus, Honda Accord, Toyota Camry, broken down minivan, big old lurching SUV, giant white whale of a pickup truck. Only in movies do spies drive exotic cars.

"Learn to shoot and manipulate all manner of handguns. Not easy here in Illinois, but it can be done. Follow all the rules all the time. You do not want your picture in the paper for not following the rules with a handgun. Go to Michigan or Indiana and compete in practical or defensive shooting competition matches, but don't win.

"Pick a part of the world you want to be your area of expertise and learn it's history, read everything in the paper about it, learn one or two of the languages in that area, study the religions, the culture and the philosophy of life there so you can fit in if you have to.

"Once you finish with your degree you'd be sent to our training facility for a year-long education. A large number who start the program never finish for one reason or another – sometimes they just quit, sometimes they fail out. It's not easy. It's like boot camp in the military. Only longer. You have to be smart, savvy, quick-thinking, and disciplined."

They heard a knock on the door, it was Abigail who asked, "Can you two come up for air for a few minutes? It's almost time for some supper. Should I set a place for you Alexis?"

Alexis said, "Give us another two minutes Nana? I don't know Nana. Is anyone else here?"

"Okay, two minutes it is. And yes. Your Mom, Dad and sister have shown up."

"I'll stay for dinner then," Alexis advised her grandmother and then, as soon as her grandmother had left and closed the doors back, she turned to her aunt and said with sincerity, "Aunt Annie, thank you so much for sharing that. It's a lot to process. I need to think about it. Can we talk again later after I roll this around in my head for a while?"

"Absolutely. It goes without saying; you share none of this with anybody including your Uncle Auggie. So you get to find out how you like it. What will your cover story be for this conversation that will be plausible, but not stir up interest? Credible but boring; private but uninteresting."

Alexis' eyes opened wide and she said, "You really know how to drive home a point don't you?"

"Oh yeah. Oh, and by the way, when you want to continue this conversation, arrange it naturally without us having to shut ourselves away in here. Nobody needs to know we are having the conversation. One more thing, I'm not the most extraordinary person you know."

"Who is?"

"Your Uncle Auggie, but don't tell him I said that. Shall we?"

Alexis said, "I won't. And definitely, yes we shall join the others for supper?"

They walked into the back of the house to find people looking expectantly at them. Annie said nothing, walked to the refrigerator and took out the pitcher of tea like nothing had happened, so they focused on Alexis. Annie was delighted when Abigail asked, 'You get it all sorted out?' and Alexis replied sounding almost bored, "Sort of. Combination of college classes that I might want to take, languages that might be worth studying, I have a few electives to check into and maybe one more semester before I finish my degree. And maybe some guy stuff."

Abigail, not to be put off, looked up from the pot of pasta sauce she was stirring and asked, "What languages did you discuss?"

"Eastern European. Croatian, which is really more like four languages, and Russian. They are all so different from the French I've had so far. Aunt Annie suggested I take a couple of specialized cultural history courses for the country that matches the language. I like that idea. Maybe even spend a semester in the country to cement the language firmly in my head like she says only everyday use can do."

Annie followed her lead saying, "One huge advantage I had growing up was living in different countries as I was learning their language. I had a chance to speak it every day, and I was also young. I was speaking French when I was five, German when I was seven. Russian didn't come until I was several years older, but by then it'd gotten so learning a language was almost second nature to me."

Abigail asked, "Guy stuff?"

Alexis answered with no hesitation, "Yeah, guy stuff. We closed the door and kicked Uncle Auggie out for a reason. Sorry Auggie, but some things are pure girl talk."

Auggie grinned broadly and then said, "No problem. I'm more than happy to miss that, and Croatian languages make my head spin. Actually, they make everybody's head spin but Annie's. When it comes to languages, she's disgusting. I don't even bother when we are on vacation; I just leave the talking to her."

Abigail asked Alexis, "What are your plans for this weekend? Will you be joining us for the usual activities? Or will you be off like Cody? I haven't seen much of your brother in the last few years. I know he's busy with becoming a doctor, but still – "

Annie looked at Auggie and noticed the same relieved expression on his face. He was probably as glad that his mother had changed the subject as she was.

Alexis shrugged her shoulders, "I'm very much a part of this family, Nana. Cody hasn't even been home much. He's interning in Boston. We miss him, too. But he plans on coming back to this area for his residency." She looked at her aunt and asked, "Aunt Annie, would you like to go with me to the martial arts studio? I have scheduled a sparring session with Mr. Aronoff; you mentioned needing to work out some kinks."

Annie knew what this was about so she said, "Sure, when is your appointment?"

"Noon tomorrow. He's giving me some extra time on his lunch hour as a favor since I mentioned that my Aunt Anne might like to work out with me."

"That sounds like fun. I'll just spar in street clothes. I haven't been there in what, five years? He probably won't remember me."

Alexis burst out laughing, covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes shown like headlights, she finally got herself under control and said, "Oh, he'll remember you if only because you sent him more business than anyone else on the planet. Everybody here in this room but you and Auggie has taken classes there ever since, all your brothers- and sisters-in-law, and all their children – even Summer and Gracie. The only ones that haven't been there for class are you and Uncle Auggie. We can finish up the girl stuff driving there and back."

Annie said, "I'd love that. It's okay with you Auggie?"

"Oh yeah, I'm definitely good with missing the girl talk and getting beat up by my wife in a sparring session."

Annie gave him a playful shoulder punch and said, "When, exactly, was the last time you got beat up by your wife?"

"Never?"

"Right answer," she said with humor in her voice.

Adam looked at his daughter with concern. "Are you changing your major this far into your schooling?"

"Oh, no Daddy. I just want to enhance my studies so I might be better able to get a position with the State Department when I'm done. Not much chance to do that once I start law school. And since Aunt Annie and Uncle Auggie live in DC, I thought that they might have a better idea of what goes on there. Annie did give me some things to think about, but I'm not changing my major."

Adam visibly relaxed after his daughter's disclosure.

For the rest of the evening Annie and Auggie enjoyed catching up with Adam, Olivia and their girls over a simple dinner of salads, spaghetti with meatballs and wine. Lots of wine.

With baby Christopher soundly, and surprisingly, asleep in a portable crib at the foot of the bed, Annie and Auggie cuddled for a bit while they drifted off to sleep.

"Annie," Auggie said drowsily, "what did you tell Lexi earlier today?" Annie couldn't discern any accusation, only mild curiosity.

Annie snuggled deeper into her husband's arms. "I didn't tell her anything compromising, but I did read her in. I'm already dirty, but I know she won't say anything. It was a calculated risk. I didn't say anything about you, but she knows. They all know. We'll keep on keeping on with our cover stories and they'll keep on pretending not to know. I described the lifestyle of a covert officer, I told the truth about the downsides. I didn't play up the upsides and she's still interested. I feels odd, Auggie. She wants to be like me. That afternoon and evening five years ago left a bigger impression on her than we ever knew."

"It seems so," Auggie whispered sleepily. "I can put in a bad word if you think that appropriate."

"I don't know about that, Augs. I really don't know."

# # #

The next morning was simple and low-key until around ten when Austin and his family made an appearance. For the next hour, the six adults sat on the deck catching up while watching Austin's girls play with their newest cousin. Around eleven Alexis stopped back by for Annie so they could go to the Krav Maga studio.

Annie excused herself from the others and went upstairs to change into clothes more suitable for sparring. When she'd finished changing into shorts, cotton socks running shoes, sports bra and polo shirt, she joined Alexis in the kitchen. She saw Alexis looking at her and said, "What?"

"Are those the shorts you wore that afternoon five years ago?"

Annie looked down and realized they were. "Yes, as it happens, they are. I hadn't realized that. Funny you should remember that."

"Aunt Annie, I remember every second of that afternoon vividly, I can close my eyes and see you taking that big guy down like some sort of magic. "There isn't –" her voice trailed off as she saw Annie looking at her and then she continued, "We ready to go?"

"Yes, you driving?"

"I am."

Abigail said, "You kids have fun. Sorry Annie, sometimes, like right now, you still look like a kid to me."

"Mom, that's just fine with me, especially when you're closer to forty than thirty …." Annie said as she walked around the counter to give her a hug and said, "I love you." She felt the return hug, and then headed for Alexis who opened the door.

Alexis said, "I'm sorry Aunt Annie –"

"No need to apologize Lexi, I understand. I must have made a bigger impression that I realized."

"Impression? Aunt Annie, you have no idea how much of an influence you have been on my life," she said as they got into the car. Once they were in, doors locked, belts fastened, and underway she continued, "The training you gave Megan, Jenna, and I the next day has probably saved us more than once. I know it's saved me at least twice on campus. And the training I've gotten from Mr. Aronoff has as well."

"Really?"

"Yeah, without going into it, I was at a party when some guy started manhandling me. I wasn't drunk, I pretty much don't drink more than one of anything because I don't want to be out of control of my destiny, but he seemed to think he was irresistible. Long story short, I humiliated him when he grabbed me, put him on the floor in the middle of the living room and kept him there till he apologized in front of everybody. He left.

"Later, my date and I were leaving –"

"Your date? Where was he earlier?"

"He was talking to one of his buddies across the room. My boyfriend pretty much knows if we get in trouble, I'm going to be the one doing the fighting. But that isn't the important part –"

"Actually it is – I'm really proud of you. But continue –"

"The guy that was pawing me earlier was in the front yard of the house where the party was. Apparently he thought he was going to get even or something. I saw him when I looked out through the window before we left. I told my boyfriend to walk behind me and handed him my shoes. I can't fight worth beans in heels."

"Me either."

"The guy tried to surprise us only this time he had a baseball bat. I didn't see the bat till he came at me so I changed tactics and charged him to get inside his swing and put him down almost like you did that guy in the back yard, only this guy was about half the size of that guy. He got hurt someplace in there, broken elbow actually, the police decided I wasn't at fault; he was taken to the hospital. I didn't press charges and he didn't give me any more trouble. Neither has anybody else. It wasn't in the paper but word gets around."

"Wow. I'm glad you are okay. But, in the future, you'll need to be more low key about stuff like that. You shouldn't bring attention to yourself. How far have you gotten in your training?"

"Okay, I'll keep me low key from now on. I'm through what Mr. Aronoff calls his Master's class, which he says is the equivalent to a second degree black belt."

When they arrived at the studio, Alexis went through a bit of a ritual parking, not elaborate but enough that it was obvious to Annie her lessons of that afternoon so many years ago weren't forgotten. As they walked in about two minutes before noon, Mr. Aronoff was standing by the receptionist desk talking to the same woman that had been there on Annie's previous visit; he looked up, did a bit of a double take and said with a twinkle in his eye, "Welcome to both of you. Lexi, I see you brought your awesome Aunt Anonymous with you." Apparently seeing a bit of a storm in Annie's eyes, he said, "Both Beth and I still know exactly where the paper is that the very persuasive Agent Parker delivered, but there is no one else here at the moment so you're safe with us."

Annie relaxed a little, moved forward, offered her hand, and said, "Good to see you too Mr. Aronoff. And I thank you very much for the excellent training you have given my family members."

"It was my pleasure," he said shaking her hand with the same confident grip she remembered from five years ago. "What did you have in mind for the next hour?"

Before Alexis could say anything Annie answered, "I thought I'd spar with Lexi and have you give us some pointers. I don't get to practice as much as I used to these days with an eighteen-month-old youngster taking so much of my time. Then I was going to ask if you wanted to go a few rounds?"

The next half hour went by very fast. Annie and Alexis had a really good time. Alexis was better than Annie thought she would be, but still no match for someone that has fought to the death on more occasions than she wanted to remember. Annie was careful to not hurt Alexis.

At one point Alexis, out of breath, looking at her Aunt standing there casually looking like she had just walked in asked, "What would it take to get you to break a sweat Aunt Annie?"

Annie smiled and said, "You and Mr. Aronoff together, but I don't want to do that because I might not remember to pull my punches. Auggie and I train full contact with pads and gloves."

Alexis said, "There are pads and gloves here. I used to train like that here, too. Would you do that with me? I don't get to do it much. Nobody wants to train like that with me here."

The next fifteen minutes were a lot more fun for both of them. Annie actually got to breathing hard during one attack and counter attack. Finally Alexis said, "Enough Annie, I can see I'm not going to get you down and I need a break before I fall down. Mr. Aronoff, you want a turn."

"I'm ready," he said and since he was already suited up in gloves and pads he launched a surprise attack on Annie.

Annie felt it coming, saw the flicker of shadow, decoded his attack, and counter attacked like she was fighting an enemy. Annie stopped her attack when Mr. Aronoff was on the ground, but with difficulty, before Alexis could figure out how it happened. Mr. Aronoff shook his head and said as Annie offered him her hand, "Congratulations Ms. Anderson, you are the first person to take me down since I opened this studio. I knew you were an elite fighter, Alexis can take most of my students, including the men, and you handled her easily. I knew your history in two actual fights, but I had no idea how fast you were. And you are out of training?"

"I'm sorry, I should have held back a little more, are you okay?"

"No apology required. I launched a surprise attack, almost a cheap shot but fair given your level of training. You handled it just like you should have except you held back a lot. I'm fine, but I think I'm done sparring for today, my body doesn't handle getting thumped as well as it used to."

Alexis walked over to Mr. Aronoff and said, "You did exactly what you trained us to do, took your best shot. I'll be back during the week for my regular session. I'll settle up with Beth for today on my way out."

Mr. Aronoff said, "It's on the house. It's on the house every time you bring your Aunt." He turned to Annie and said, "Next time, and I hope it won't be so long between visits, I'd love to do some structured sparring with you. I think you could teach me a few things. You did today. Watching you with Alexis I saw moves I've not seen before. That doesn't happen often."

Annie said, "Thanks. I'll make it a point to visit whenever I'm in town, I could use the practice as well. My husband and I don't have the time we used to have so any chance I get I'll take."

In the car on the way back to the house, Alexis asked, "Aunt Annie, I want to ask you a couple of questions that you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Go ahead."

"How did you deal with the aftermath of killing those three guys?"

"Lexi, I was sorry they were dead, but it was their choice. They launched an attack where I had no option but to use extreme violence to stop it before they could harm any of my family. They ended up dead as collateral damage. I would have done it again.

"I think you may be somewhat like me. I don't think of consequences before the fact, if someone I care about is in danger, I will stop it, or die trying. The consequences for me come later; I wake up dripping wet and shaking, not because of what I did but because of what might have happened if I hadn't succeeded. I feel no fear while I'm fighting; there is no time for it. But when it's over, when I'm safe, which can be days later, I have a rough few nights. Your Uncle Auggie is very good for me then."

"So you pretty much just tough it out?"

"Not on my own. I get professional help to work my way through it. It's the only way to avoid long term complications that could crop up as a hesitation at exactly the wrong time."

"Okay. Last question. Do you think I should work for the CIA?"

"I wondered when you would ask me that. I figured that was why you arranged this little outing."

"It was."

"Lexi, I think you are the only one that can answer that. It goes on for a lot of years. I've given you as good a preview of it as I can. The upside can be very gratifying now and then, gratifying enough that, for me, it filled in the valleys of sadness and frustration. Without going into specifics, the downside is sometimes really hard to take. There are consequences to life in the spy business. Sometimes they are permanent, sometimes tragic, sometimes survivable, sometimes not. The only one that can assess your willingness to make such a commitment is you. My counsel is if you decide to do it, the reasons for your decision are every bit as important as the decision itself. The reasons, and your belief in them, are what will sustain you during the hard times and what will measure your gratification during the successes."

They were pulling in the driveway at the Anderson family home. Alexis had been quiet for the last five minutes. As Annie reached for the door handle Alexis said, "Thank you so much for trusting me enough to have yesterday's and today's conversations, for sharing what you have. I could see some of it was hard; there was pain in your eyes when you mentioned the hard times, but you were here for me and I really, really appreciate that. You are one in a million Annie, maybe the best friend I have." With that, she opened the door and got out.

As she came around the car Annie met her, opened her arms and said, "Friends deserve a hug now and then." Alexis had to bend down a little to hug her but Annie could tell it was appreciated. Then they separated and walked up the drive towards the house both with a bounce in their step. Almost to the back steps Alexis stopped and smiled at Annie. The young woman gently knocked elbows with her aunt and whispered, "Maybe I'll see you at Langley in a few years."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Comments?<strong>


	44. Rebecca and Christopher - A Love Story?

_**I was asked long ago, and in another galaxy, to write the story of Rebecca (Bex) and Christopher. I don't even remember now who asked, or if they're even on the site any longer. It's a variation on all the post season 4 stories. A simpler Annie.**_

_**There IS a story in the works - and still under this global story - about an updated (post season 4) Annie and Auggie. I'll not share the idea quite yet, I'm not sure that it will pan out.**_

_**The usual disclaimer: I don't own the Annie and Auggie characters, nor the show Covert Affairs. I just like to think of them as 'regular' people with a family of my making.**_

_**Thanks to Mandy58 and call2worship for letting me bounce ideas off of them.**_

* * *

><p>"Mom, Gran, can I ask you two something?" Abigail Elizabeth Anderson asked as she bounced into the living room of her parent's suburban DC home. Her mother and paternal grandmother were working on decorations for her upcoming Sweet 16 birthday party. A few completed party favors were scattered about the coffee table, and the components were on the couch between the two women.<p>

"Sure." Rebecca Elizabeth Larsen-Anderson replied as she looked up from her iPad. "What do you want to know?"

Abby curled up in her father's recliner across the coffee table from her mother and grandmother. "How did you and Dad meet, fall in love, and get to be married as long as they have? I've heard bits and pieces, but never the whole story."

The two older women looked one to the other with amused looks.

"Okay. What's so funny?" Abby said.

Her grandmother, Anne Catherine Walker-Anderson, replied, "A few weeks ago your mother and I were discussing the fact that neither you nor your brothers had ever wondered about this very subject."

"Oh, so we're slow?" Abby asked and giggled. She and her brothers, Adrian and Bryan, were anything but slow. Adrian, better known as Adi to his friends and family, had a full-ride academic scholarship to his mother's, father's, and grandfather's alma mater, Northwestern. Bryan had the same at his Aunt Crystal's alma mater of George Washington University. Abby was on track to be at least salutatorian, if not valedictorian, of her high school class; she'd applied for early admission to her mother's alma mater, Georgetown.

"Lacking in curiosity is more like it. At least on this matter," her mother replied and grinned cheerily.

"Well, I'm curious now."

"Yes, you are. Okay, your parents have known each other since they were in junior high." Annie replied quickly.

"Junior high sweethearts?" Abigail asked as she picked up a small pair of scissors and snipped off a measured length of red, ribbed, curly ribbon.

"No. Not really," Bex quickly interjected. "We just liked hanging out together. We didn't consider it dating; we just always did stuff together as a group."

"Yes," Annie said. "That group was always together. I remember the first time we, your grandfather and I, met one Rebecca Elizabeth Larsen on a Friday evening after a high school football game. Your Dad had asked if he could have some friends over after the game. We thought, since he was barely thirteen, that he meant some of his guy friends. We were quite surprised when there were several girls in the group that arrived at our house that evening."

"Who all showed up besides Mom?"

"Well, there was your mother, and your mom's sister, and one other girl whose name I have long since forgotten. Your Uncle Harrison was there, too, and a couple of other guys. Of that group, the only ones that hung on once they all entered high school were your mom, your Aunt Crystal and Uncle Harrison."

"So, Aunt Crys and Uncle Harry started dating way back then, too?" Abby asked with a bit ofastonishment.

"Yes, the beginnings of their relationships began way back then, too, and even though they dated other people in high school, like your Mom and Dad had, they kept gravitating back together over and over again. Even during college I think they all dated others, too. We lost track of Uncle Harrison and Aunt Crystal for a while during those first few years of college. We were very happy when they came back into the fold … so to speak."

"Tell me more about the first time you met my Mom," Abby interrupted excitedly. That was what she really wanted to know. There was a guy that she was interested in who had asked her to come to his parent's house. She was curious about how her grandparents had met her mother.

"Well," Annie replied. She closed her eyes briefly, as if remembering the gathering. "That first meeting started out a bit awkwardly. None of the kids knew that your grandfather was blind, and, except for you mother, they had no idea how to act around him."

"I," interjected Rebecca, "really didn't know either. But I just treated your grandfather like I would like to be treated if it were me. Seemed to work. Dad seemed to warm up to me quickly. I do remember being astonished at how capable he was."

Abby was shocked at her mother's admission. She'd never thought about it much. "So, you were surprisedabout Grandpa?"

"Yeah. At first, but after a while, I sort of forgot that he was blind. I remember it took a few meetings for the rest of that gang to get comfortable around Dad, too. You've always known your grandfather as blind. He's your grandfather and that's the way he is. When I met him, I'd never known a blind person before and I guess I had this idea that blind people were less than able." Rebecca paused for a moment and then quickly added, "And, yes, before you ask, Aunt Crys and I, as well as your Dad and Uncle Harrison did date others, just like your grandmother said."

"Why didn't you stay with one of the other guys you had relationships with?"

"Because, none of those relationships with them was ever quite as satisfying as the ones we had with the men we eventually married, though. Though, for me, it was also that the parents of the other men never quite lived up to the relationship I had with your father's parents. Almost from the beginning, they treated me like a part of the family. Even your Aunt Corry liked my sister and me. I remember that she would talk to me about her own boyfriend issues. Aunt Corry used me as a sounding board a few times when she had boyfriend issues because I had such a good relationship with her that was even before your dad and I were serious**."**

Rebeccachuckled a bit under her breath. Looking at Annie she said, "Do you remember Yem?"

"You mean the Greek kid whose real name you could never pronounce?"

"Yes, and then there was Kevin Bull."

Both women laughed out loud.

"What's so funny you guys?"

Rebecca continued,"Just remembering how appropriated Kevin's last name was. He was as clumsy as the proverbial bull in a china shop. He finally stopped growing and gained control of his limbs, but in high school, he was always tripping over his own feet and knocking stuff over. It was a wonder either set of your grandparents let him in their houses. The more he tried not to be clumsy …"

"Is he the really tall guy in the formal wedding pictures of you and Dad and Aunt Crys and Uncle Harrison?"

"Yup," Annie answered for her daughter-in-law. "He was a good kid, and really wasn't as big a klutz here. I mean he didn't knock into things any more than Auggie ever did." Both women laughed at that.

Abby wasn't done probing, however."I probably should ask Dad this, but when were you sure that Dad was 'The One'?"

"Oh, that's an easy one," Bex responded with a smile. "It was kind of a sad and stressful time for both your Dad and me, but during it, I realized that there was no one else I could ever care about as much as I cared about Christopher Austin Anderson."

Abby's look changed from one of curiosity to one of concern.

Bex quickly responded, "The time that your Dad lost his leg. That was a very traumatic time for all of us. Yes, much more so for your Dad, but it wasn't easy for me - or our friends either. For the longest time I felt so guilty about the accident. Everyone kept telling me it wasn't my fault. That it was the fault of the drunk driver that hit your Dad head-on, but I just knew that if I hadn't goaded him into coming home then he never would have been on that stretch of highway."

Annie, with a look ofshock**,** quickly interjected, "Bex, you know now that, like his father, it is so very, very hard to get him to do anything he doesn't really want to do. If he hadn't wanted to come home then, he wouldn't have."

Bex smiled at Annie. "I know Mom. It took me a long time to realize that, though. Sometimes, the guilt still nags me. I know it's irrational, but there's still a tiny remnant left."

"Mom!" Abby exclaimed. "You've always told me not to carry guilt over something that I could not have prevented. That it's counterproductive. Sounds like you're not practicing what you preach." There was a tone of disapproval in her voice.

"It IS counterproductive, Abs. Buts sometimes it's easier said than done**. **Once I understood that I really couldn't have prevented that accident, or the outcome, I stopped feeling guilty most of the time. In moments of weakness, I still think of that. Then I remember that your father came very close to losing more than a part of his leg. He nearly lost himself. During that time is when I made a number of decisions that have led to me being who I am today."

"How so?" Abby asked with curiosity.

"Well, I decided that I was going to treat your father no differently than I had before. That was hard, but your Dad told me afterwards that was one of the things that helped him get through that period. That's also when I decided that I wanted to be a counselor and work with people like your father and grandfather - to help them get as much of their previous life back as they can after the incidents that disabled them. In those early years, when both your dad and I were working on getting our degrees, especially our Master's, it put a strain on our relationship, but not nearly as much of one as just after your dad was hurt."

"What was that time like?" Abby asked with concern. Her father hardly ever spoke of that time in his life. And now this revelation that her mother was a part of it boggled her mind.

"Well, I'm not quite sure how to answer that," Bex replied thoughtfully. "I guess I'll just tell you a short summary of the major events, and how I dealt with them. Felt about them.

"The accident happened sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Never did know the exact time but it was some time around midnight. I heard about it on the morning news. I was devastated. That's when the guilt hit. I called your grandfather in the hopes that it wasn't true. It was. He was, understandably, a bit short with me. My sister came downstairs and found me crying hysterically and I could barely get out why. About then our phones started ringing and it was Uncle Harry calling your Aunt Crystal, and Kevin calling me. We got together, Uncle Harry drove us to the hospital, and we sort of took over the ICU waiting room. Eventually your grandmother and Aunt Corry came. After we took your grandfather, who had been there for better than twelve hours already to the cafeteria for something to eat, we were sent home. Aunt Corry came with us. We were to just drop her off at her home but there was a news van outside. We didn't know what to do and Aunt Corry called your grandfather. We don't know if he did something or if the news people got tired of waiting, but once they left, we went in. We, my sister and I, stayed the night with Aunt Corry. Staying with her and your grandfather that night was comforting."

Abby listened with rapt attention to what her mother was saying. From the looks on her face, her mother seemed to be reliving some of the events.

"While your father was in the hospital things settled into a routine. We, Aunt Crys, Uncle Harrison, and I, would go visit as often as we could. At first, the nurses didn't seem to appreciate us being there, but your dad did. Whenhe came home, we continued hanging out as much as we could. He was able to go back to school in the fall and, much to his dismay, I went with him."

"Why to his dismay?"

"Maybe dismay is the wrong word," Rebecca replied. She picked up another length of the red curly ribbon, and began to tie it around one of the last few boxes as she continued, "I was unhappy at Georgetown – not just because I was away from him – and had convinced my folks – without your dad's knowledge or approval – to let me transfer to Northwestern. I'd already done that before your dad got hurt. Until I explained my reasoning, he was upset with me doing that. He returned to live with his Uncle Austin and Aunt Jenna; I moved into a dorm for the first year and then a couple of other girls got and I got an off-campus apartment."

Putting down the box she'd just tied a ribbon around, Annie interrupted, "Auggie and I were a bit upset at one event that your mother was a part of just after she and your father moved to Illinois."

Abigail looked at her mother and noticed the slightly sheepish look on her face as she replied, "Yeah. Chris and I never thought about that. That you might want to be a part of that."

"About what?" Abby demanded.

Putting the party favor aside, Rebecca answered her daughter, "During the first half of that fall semester your dad received his prosthesis. I was with him when he first stood and took his first few steps with it. Neither of us thought that his Mom and Dad might like to be there instead of me. He did surprise them when we came home for Thanksgiving by walking to where they waited for us outside of security."

"Yeah, that was a pleasant surprise," Annie said and smiled as if remembering.

"What kind of things did you and Dad do once he was back on two feet?" Abby asked. "Did you have romantic dates?"

"No. It was odd in a way, but your dad and I never formally dated; we were just always together. Then, one day in our senior year, he just looked at me and said, 'You know, we might as well make this formal and get married'. I thought for a moment and said, 'Yeah, I guess maybe we should.'"

"Were you guys living together then?"

"No," Bex said shaking her head. "He lived in Glencoe with his aunt and uncle and I lived in the apartment with the girls until we graduated. Then until the wedding. We lived back at home with our parents. It was a bit 'unorthodox' for the times not to live together before marrying, but we both had sort of old-fashioned ideas about marriage."

Abigail giggled at the thought that her parents were 'old-fashioned'. Of all her friends, her parents were the most current in the trends of the day.

Almost in unison, her mother and grandmother asked, "What's so funny?"

"The thought that you and Dad were old-fashioned. You guys are anything but that. And Gran, for being old people," she paused and grinned cheekily, "you and Grandpa are pretty up-to-date, too."

Annie smiled and replied, "We've got to keep up with you and your brothers."

"We've got to keep up, too," Bex added. "Now, if you've learned enough about your Dad's and my courtship, I'm going to go start supper. Your Dad and grandfather are going to be back soon. I know after an afternoon at the Senators game they're probably going to be ravenous." She picked up the box of completed party favors and headed out of the room toward the kitchen.

Her curiosity about her parents satisfied, she looked at her grandmother. "How did you and Grandpa really meet?"

"That, Abs, is a story for another day."

* * *

><p><em><strong>And maybe, one day soon, Abby will get her wish.<strong>_

_**Comments?**_


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